Childlike Ambition
by MyraRain223
Summary: Bruce Wayne expects a lot of things when watching the Red Hood's safe house in Gotham. What he never would have seen coming was a six-year-old Jason Todd weak and alone on a cold night. Will he leave him to the mercy of the foster care system or will he take it as a second chance with the wayward bird? later chapters may include Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and Dick Grayson.
1. Prologue

**A/N: More of a prologue… but… it's something I had to write. Had. To. Write. Please leave a review if you would like to read more!**

Chapter 1

Rain storms were common in Gotham. The water often poured for hours on end, soaking every person to the bone and generally making life a living hell for anyone forced to work through it. Coupled with (and it often was) the freezing and bitter cold of winter the city became that much more dangerous. It made the chances of hypothermia setting in skyrocket.

Even through the Kevlar reinforced suit and the cape and cowl, Bruce could feel the chill. The droplets berated him nonstop in an endless cycle, yet he couldn't quite make himself move. He'd heard a nasty little rumor that the Red Hood was back in town and staying at one of his more frequented safe houses. The Bat had watched in silent vigil as the young man entered the warehouse, had listened as glass broke and the lights flickered from on to off, on to off. Still, he waited for the man to come out.

By now it had been an hour, still no sign of the man who had once been his son.

This was getting ridiculous. That in mind, Bruce lifted his arm and swung a grappling hook out. He landed silently on the rooftop, intent to watch, but not interfere in whatever was happening.

What he saw was utter darkness. That didn't surprise him. No, what shocked him was what he _heard_. Faint rustling, and over that a loud sobbing, childlike in nature and very broken sounding. It did not sound like the Red Hood.

The Dark Knight shattered the skylight and dropped below in visionary perfection.

His lenses accommodated him and switched to night vision. He saw clothes piled on the floor, and there it was, the source of the crying. A little boy sat curled up in the corner of the place, he couldn't have been older than six. He wore Jason's shirt, oversized to the point of obsurdity, hanging loosely around him. His black hair was crushed to his head with sweat and tears ran freely from his teal eyes. At the Bat's presence the boy looked up and stared at the man clad in the dark suit.

The boy's face contorted with fear and sadness, he began to cry louder.

Bruce searched the room for Jason, but when he detected no other living organisms it all but confirmed the worst. He took a deep breath and approached the boy, hands raised in a calming gesture.

The child tried desperately to back away, but with the wall at his back he found no purchase. He sniffled and buried his face in his knees.

"I'm not here to hurt you." The Bat was surprised at the gentleness of his own voice, "Hey, can you look at me, kid?"

The boy shook his head, but mumbled something incoherently.

"What was that, boy?"

Teal green eyes showed themselves over his knees, "it's Jason, not 'kid'."

If there was a shadow of doubt in his mind before, it was definitely gone now. He breathed deeply again.

"Hi, Jason. Do you know who I am?"

Young Jason ignored the question, instead asking one of his own. "I want my mom… She died though, right?" His eyes filled with more tears and Bruce's heart broke. The image was so close to his own memories of another little boy mourning over the bodies of his parents…

He gulped over the lump in his throat before kneeling down to eye level with the little boy. "Catherine Todd?"

The boy nodded vigorously, apparently hopeful knowing Bruce was familiar with her name. "I'm sorry, Jason." Bruce took a step forward, but the boy tried to back away again, fear obvious in his eyes.

Something clicked and suddenly he was removing the cowl to reveal weathered blue eyes, _human, normal, what the boy needs._ Though the bat demanded that he leave the child in the hands of the authorities so that this second chance – If one could call it that – would manifest into a better man… the part of him demanded he give Jason a chance at a better life with another family rationalizing the event easily.

Instead, Bruce took another step and told the child he would not hurt him. Jason seemed to respond to the less intimidating man, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Bruce. He sobbed into the older man's chest in anguished bursts and Bruce held him until the tears dried and then turned in to soundless trembling.

"shh, it'll be all right, son." The boy relaxed a little and with time Bruce felt his small body regulate his breathing into slow, balanced breaths. The boy was finally asleep.

From the shattered skylight above, rain flooded the area. The cold was deafening, and for once Bruce cursed the weather. After pulling the cowl back over his head, he unlatched the cape from around his shoulders and wrapped the little one in it. Hefting Jason up and being careful to keep him as close as possible, Bruce left the warehouse with his son cradled safely in his arms.


	2. What's a Dad for, Dad?

**Hey guys! Thank you to all the wonderful people who reviewed! And for those of you that asked, no I haven't forgotten about my other stories, I'm just at a point where I feel like what I write for them isn't going how I want it to. So… for the time being I'm going to try writing this to get my writer's block to go the hell away. XP**

**Anyways, let me know what you think I'm working on making the representation of character feelings more evenly distributed between the characters, writing a little more from different perspectives in this plotline. We'll see how it works. Thanks, and please leave a review!**

Chapter 2

The cave was dank and dark as per usual, yet it seemed there was a chilling air tonight. Perhaps it was the rain, or perhaps (his theory) it was just fate trying to pull some cruel joke on him. Stepping out of the Batmobile, Bruce gathered up the bundle of his cape and the little boy inside it. He immediately brought the boy to the medical bay, laying him down gently. The child turned to his side quickly, still in the throes of sleep.

Bruce had to stifle a smile as he watched young Jason, a Jason without anger or hostility emanating off of him. _Innocent, that's the word._ But it just seemed like such a foreign term; Jason was just not freely associated with innocence. Perhaps none of his boys ever had been, yet here he was.

"Sir, I am sorry, but you _cannot_ keep doing this." Bruce turned to see Alfred standing in the cave, irritably tapping his fingers on a silver tray holding a tea pot and cups.

Bruce smiled somewhat sheepishly. "The boy… He's Jason, Alfred." The old man's eyes widened slightly, the only sign of shock that was displayed. "I don't know how or why, but it is."

They were whispering now, trying not to wake Jason. "Sir, if this is indeed young Jason, should you not still bring him to the authorities? This second chance… He should have a proper home this time… Not to imply anything worse of you, Master Bruce."

"I don't know, Alfred. For now, I will take care of him. He needs someone… He thinks that his mother just died…"

The older man raised a single elegant eyebrow, "As you say, Master Bruce. The decision ultimately lies with you. But I warn you, if young Jason grows attached to you, it will be worse for him to disconnect. His room is always prepared, nonetheless." With that, the stoic British man laid down the tray he'd been carrying and walked upstairs. Bruce released another sigh, turning back to Jason. He froze.

The boy was standing on the floor pulling at his costume cuffs, staring at him with huge eyes full to the brim with tears. "You w-won't l-leave me, right?" The question was so childish in nature and perhaps the most lachrymose thing Bruce had ever heard coming from Jason's mouth.

Something deep inside of him twisted into a fist around his heart. Bruce knelt down before the boy and scooped him up. Jason wrapped his small arms around the Bat's neck and Bruce crushed the boy to him. "No. I promise I won't leave you alone."

Despite his talk with his grandfather figure, Bruce couldn't help but do this. The part of him that was a father saw only his second son crying out in pain; it saw only the tears in his eyes, and, therefore, it saw only one logical course of action: to comfort his child.

"do you want to go to your room, Jason? I'm sure you're very tired after such a long day." He felt more than saw the nod Jason gave him. The boy still clung tightly to him, refusing to relinquish his hold. That was all right, Bruce didn't want to let go either.

He walked the boy upstairs and towards Jason's room. When they arrived at the door in question, Bruce slid it opened. Memories flooded him instantly. They attacked him with images of the Jason he had come to know; an older, more hardened boy with a passion and wit and strength of character that often left Bruce breathless. He could practically see Jason pacing in the room; he could see him spoiling for a fight. He could see him waiting to crack some joke to try to laugh off the pain of whatever was bothering him.

Bruce carried on despite the rush of nostalgia. He had tried to avoid coming to this room as much as possible, went out of his way to not even look at the door. It was normally too painful.

Again, he carried on.

He placed the boy on the bed, oversized t-shirt and all. He whispered for the child to crawl into the bed and under the covers. Little Jason did as he was told and cozied up under the sheets as Bruce pulled up the comforter to keep him warm.

"Sleep tight, Jason." He smiled and added: "don't let the bed bugs bite."

Jason's eyes widened and he sat up to look fully at Bruce. "Are they real bugs?"

Bruce chuckled softly and ruffled the child's hair. "No, they aren't real. Forget I said anything."

It was strange, considering it was Jason, but Bruce could swear that the child leaned into the touch. Jason settled back down on the bed and Bruce figured that was just about the end of the fiasco – for today. But the boy sat up slightly as Bruce was leaving and said something that nearly stopped his heart. "Good night, Daddy."

Bruce turned back to the child, this time _his_ eyes were wide as saucers. He walked back to the bed almost mechanically. "What do you think a daddy is, Jason?"

The boy looked downcast now. "My Mommy said it was man that takes care of you, even if they don't have to." He looked up sadly, "I've never had one before, but I thought…"

Bruce wrapped his arms around the child quickly to keep him from crying once more. "That's all right, you can call me that if you like." _I suppose I am your father…_ his mind finished.

The boy nodded and then lay down. Bruce tucked him in and said his good nights, then, Led by instinct, he kissed the child's brow before leaving the room.

Once outside the door, Bruce slid down the wall adjacent to the room. His mind was reeling, he couldn't leave Jason in the hands of anyone else. There was a very paternal part of him that demanded he protect the child and keep him with the family.

The logical side battled with this fatherly instinct. The rational part that he kept separated as Batman cried out that the child was not, in fact, family and would sooner or later become yet another Red Hooded gunslinger.

He took a deep breath and allowed the two sides to battle it out in his mind.

When he eventually got up, he knew what he had to do. He walked down the hallway and towards the study. Once inside he picked up the phone.

"Dick? It's Bruce. I- Is Damian with you? Good… Good." He sighed in resignation. "I need your help, son."

…

When Dick picked up the phone after the caller ID showed the manor, he'd expected the sarcastic voice of his grandfatherly figure to speak to him. So when he heard Bruce's gravelly voice he was a little in shock. His eyes widened when he heard the words "I need your help, _son_" and they became giant orbs when he heard "It's about Jason." At first he thought that his wayward brother had been up to no good in Gotham, but Bruce assured him that this wasn't exactly the case. The older man had promised to explain everything when Dick arrived at the manor, and even – this was the good part – _Thanked _Dick for listening and deciding to go.

He went into his guest bedroom where Damian slept whenever he visited. Knocking on the door, but not bothering to wait for a response, Dick barged in. "Hey, Little D. We gotta go."

The little assassin raised an eyebrow at the awkward intrusion, but sobered when he saw the grave expression on his mentor's face. "What's happened, Grayson?"

"We're going back to the manor. Bruce needs us." When the boy didn't move, dick walked more fully into the room. "I'll explain what I can in the car, but we have to get going."

Damian seemed to consider this, and finally the child hefted himself up with more than enough huffing and puffing (to show irritation).

Despite it being almost twelve-o-clock in Bludhaven, Dick piled into his car with Damian in toe. They'd be at the manor in a matter of time. Despite himself, Dick hoped that whatever was happening that involved his younger brother wouldn't turn out too badly. He hoped Jason was all right.

He sighed and put the keys in the ignition.


	3. Keep Calm

**Should be doing homework… should be working… should not be writing…. *writes chapter anyways* …. Oh well. I want to let you all know my writer's block has lifted somewhat and I've started the next chapters for Depravity and Anger Management! Horay! As always, please review!**

**For now though, you should read this! 8D and please take the pole I have posted on my profile… That story is just an idea I have that I will begin once at least one of my other fics is complete.**

**And in response to a review, the character ages (approximately):**

**Bruce: Bruce age.**

**Tim: 16**

**Damian: 10-11**

**Dick: 27**

**Jason: Normally 19-20, currently 6**

Chapter 3

Bruce expected to see a lot of things in the mornings. The dreary sunlight filtering in through the small creaks from the curtains, the familiarity of his bedroom gleaming back at him, the warmth and comfort of his bed… It was all to be expected. But right now it was still dark out, the sun had only just begun to come up, but it wasn't quite enough to battle the tide of night.

Of course, being Batman, Bruce noticed right away when the door to his room was opened and soft steps pattered on the floor. Too soft to be Dicks, too heavy to be Damian's. He sat up straight, peering around warily. A small form lay curled up on the floor, and it took the older man a moment to recognize him; to remember the events of last night.

After making the call to Dick, Bruce had gone upstairs to bed instructing that Alfred allow his two sons to rest up when they arrived. They would speak of what had transpired in the morning. For now… There was a miniature Jason looking shaken on the carpet of his room.

"Jason?" He whispered, "What are you doing?"

The boy's eyes flew open and he stared at Bruce somewhat nervously. "I… wanted to check on you."

He chuckled at that, "Worried some monsters might come and get me?" The boy glanced from left to right immediately, as though he were actually afraid that might be the case.

"You can never be too careful…" He whispered after a moment. His voice was so childish it made Bruce smile.

"Well. We'll have to work together to vanquish whatever monsters might be nearby. That's what Bats do." Jason gave a toothy grin in response that was just so _Jason_.

The boy shuffled over quickly to stand at the edge of the bed. "Can I be a bat?" He asked innocently.

"I was thinking more like a bird… a robin, maybe." Bruce patted the bed and offered a hand to help the little one over the edge, which seemed insurmountable for the child's frail form.

Once Jason had clamored up he shifted this way and that in an effort to get comfortable. "I figured that maybe… Maybe I could stay here for the night, you know, to keep you safe," He said.

"Why thank you, little Robin."

"It's the least I could do."

Bruce had to suppress a bark of laughter. He had to admit, he liked this side of Jason that he had never before met. When Bruce had found Jason on the streets the first time, the cruelty there had robbed the child of all pretenses of infantile joy and innocence. What sat beside him was the original, what came before all that anguish. This was the Jason that still knew how to laugh and generally show affection.

He decided he liked it. Bruce lay down and pulled the sheets over him to keep warm. He let his breathing become controlled and even out to mimic sleep. Soon enough the bed shifted and a cold body pressed up against his, cuddling into Bruce's arm and under the older man's chin. Bruce smiled as the child became comfortable and soon became warm as well. Jason sighed deeply, expelling whatever nightmares had originally pushed him through the manor and to Bruce.

He only just made out the mumbled, "good night, Daddy" before a huge yawn captured the child. Soon his body smoothed over and sleep overtook him.

"Good night, son…"

…

When Dick slipped his key into the door, he fully expected to see Alfred there waiting for him and Damian. Instead, the house was filled with the aromatic smell of pancakes and some indescribable meat, the old Butler was nowhere to be seen. The young acrobat took a moment to revel in it.

The drive had taken much longer than he had originally anticipated. The Department had called him in last minute and the journey home had been postponed by a few hours. By the time Dick had even managed to return to the apartment for his little brother, the boy was asleep. So, after a few hours rest they had set out once more for the manor.

The drive was exhausting, with Damian griping about this or that at a near constant drone. But they had finally arrived. Finally.

Damian took off in the direction of his room, seemingly uninterested in whatever Bruce had been so dead-set on telling them. Or maybe he was just fearful that whatever it was probably had something to do with the youngest Robin's behavior.

Dick shook his head. The kid was such a… well, he could be such a _kid_ sometimes. Making his way into the kitchen he was fully prepared to gorge himself on some of Alfred's cooking when he noticed a little boy standing next to his father figure. He was wearing some of Dick's old things, pajamas with the stripes and all. They were a bit big, but the kid didn't seem to mind at all.

The child turned and spotted Dick immediately. A frown formed on his face and tension lit up his figure. He moved moved to stand behind the relative safety of Bruce's leg. The kid was tiny!

"Bruce. You cannot keep doing this," Was all he said.

His father snapped his head around to stare at his eldest son, but it was Alfred who spoke. "Really, Master Dick, you are two steps behind. That is _exactly_ what I said." The man had not even turned from his task, flattening a strip of meat with more force than was probably necessary.

Bruce sighed dramatically. "we're not getting into this here. Dick, this is _Jason_. As in, Jason _Todd_."

Dick's eyes widened at the revelation. The little boy poked his head out from behind their father's leg, staring intently at the newcomer. He looked somewhat nervous and more than a little fearful. That was something that no one really ever saw on the face of Jason Todd, but the features were too similar to be mistaken. The teal eyes matched perfectly to the sneering kid from his memory.

Dick approached quietly and knelt down before the boy. "Hi Jason, My name's Dick, and I guess you could call me your big brother." He flashed a smile at young Jason and offered his hand in respect.

Jason gave a sheepish grin and shook hands with him. "hi, Dick."

The older man smiled, and then gestured towards Bruce. "Do you mind if I have a word with your dad?"

Jason looked back and forth between them, clearly mulling it over. Eventually the boy nodded and stepped away from Bruce to stand with Alfred, making himself useful whenever the grandfatherly old man asked something of him.

With that Dick and Bruce slipped out to the study.

Once the door was closed and a sufficient amount of space was between them and the boy, Dick turned on him. "OK. What the _hell_?"

"I found him like that. I'm not sure why or how, but that is Jason in there. I'm going to run some tests today, but until then there's no reason he can't have a good meal."

Dick shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did it ever occur to you to just leave the kid at some foster home? If that _is _Jason, he definitely deserves it…"

Bruce stepped forward somewhat menacingly, "He's innocent; a little boy without any parents and without a solid plan for the future. I would never abandon you, or Tim, or Damian like that, how could I consider treating Jason any differently?" The words softened at the end, as though spoken to himself more than aloud to Dick.

The young man sighed deeply, frustration eating away at him. "I don't know what to do, Bruce. If this thing is permanent, don't we owe it to him to let him live a different life?"

Bruce stared at his eldest for a moment, searching for some secret lodged there. When his searching yielded no fruit, the older man let out a breath. "I honestly don't know. But Jason is still my son. He needs his family. He needs you to be an older brother and me to be a father."

Dick laughed almost bitterly, "Is that what all this is about? Your second chance?" Dick shook his head. "Sometimes I can't help but think you actually give a damn about someone other than yourself. Thanks for proving me wrong."

"He was scared, Dick. He begged me not to leave him alone. I doubt even you could have turned him away." Bruce whispered the words so quietly that barely a speck of dust was shaken. "No matter what, Jason is still part of this family. I can never lose sight of that. If someone did this to Jason, I _need_ to be there to keep him safe. If any of you were ever in danger, I'd stop at nothing to help you. Don't expect me to do any differently because it's Jason. He's always needed the most care… I need to be there to provide it."

Dick took a deep calming breath. Deep in his memory he recalled a kid with too much fight in him; a little boy named Jason that had been his bratty little brother. The one Dick had not given enough time or care to. All of a sudden he felt ashamed, maybe Bruce was right. Jason deserved better than what their screwed up family could provide, but maybe their family was the only one that could really provide for him. Maybe his older brother had to be there for him. "Alright, Bruce." Dick turned towards the door, about to walk out. "Maybe Jason has a chance at a happy ending, this time..."

That was when the two men heard a crash of glass shattering.

…

"Who is _this_?" Damian asked spitefully. Alfred was kneeling down and picking up pieces of shattered glass – the glass Damian had thrown in anger.

The boy in question looked about shyly and then, in imitation of Dick, held out his hand in greeting. "Hi… I'm Jason…"

Damian stared at the hand as though it were completely offensive to him. He huffed out, then shoved the kid backwards. Jason tried to regain his balance, but stepped back, right onto a piece of glass. Alfred gasped and mumbled an "oh my word" as blood flowed and dripped down to the floor.

Jason's face contorted with pain and tears pricked his eyes, still he found the time to glare at Damian. "Why do you hate me?"

"Because you're here in _my_ Father's house. You shouldn't be here. You're not even worthy."

Jason opened his mouth to fire back an angry retort, even as tears made tracks down his face, but right then a newcomer waltzed in. It was Drake wearing casual jeans and a black t-shirt. Tim walked slowly and steadily towards the boy and hefted him up off the floor. "It's all right, ignore him, the rest of us do. Let's take a look at that foot, sound good? I'm Tim, by the way."

Jason squirmed a little at the idea of an unknown person holding him, but eventually settled down. "I'm Jason. Jason Todd" Automatically, the boy held out his hand, once again replicating Dick. Tim didn't look at all surprised at the shrunken down gunslinger, he just politely shook hands with the kid.

Damian turned to leave just as Dick and Bruce entered the scene of the crime. They looked shocked for a moment, but only Dick glared. Without allowing for another word, Damian stalked out of the room emanating aggression.

…

Tim had gotten back to the manor early after a particularly grueling mission with the Titans. As he let himself in he heard a crash and a high pitched yelp. He sighed, _I guess a quiet break is too much to ask for,_ He thought. He dropped his duffle bag full of extra clothes next to the stairway and meandered towards where the sound had originated. When he walked in he saw a little boy, tear stricken and foot bleeding. The kid looked almost exactly like…

Tim's eyes widened marginally, but that was the only outward sign of shock he allowed. He walked directly up to the boy and lifted him from the floor.

He was not at all surprised when the child introduced himself as Jason. Tim was only marginally resigned to the fact. Whatever had forced Jason to shrink down had undoubtedly wiped his memory, the kid probably only remembered what he would have remembered as a six year old. That included the death of his mother and the abandonment of his father.

Tim decided he liked this version. Jason definitely wouldn't try to hurt him at this stage. Even as Bruce and Dick walked in, Tim was making a list of all the possible reasons for their brother's strange situation.

He was relieved when the demon spawn had left.

"Hey." Was all he said in greeting, it was small and completely indifferent. "Y'know, you have got to stop bringing little kids home with you from patrol. It's really not healthy. Even if it is Jason."

Apparently that was quite hilarious for both Alfred and his older brother, while Bruce stood awkwardly to the side.

Seriously, was it _that_ much to ask for a single uneventful day?


	4. Carry On

**Alright, as promised, here is the next chapter for Ambition. Thanks! Please leave me a review with any questions! **

**you should go take the poll on my profile. 8D**

Chapter 4

Clouds gathered on the edge of his vision. Dark and brooding they seemed to rush from the mountainscape towards him, perhaps they too wished to serve his purpose. Still, he wrapped his black cape more tightly around himself. The overall darkness of this room was not at all affecting him, his eyes had adjusted long ago. Right now, the only problem with his senses was the berating annoyance to his right.

"What do you mean he '_escaped_'" The shrouded figure growled.

The assistant gulped audibly. "Well, sir, um… The operatives had the man in their sights.. but… he was more prepared than they originally anticipated. Then-" another audible gulp of air, "The Dark Knight took him…"

"Was he fully injected before the Detective arrived?" The assistant nodded vigorously.

Ra's Al Ghul sat back in his chair indolently, overlooking the stunning mountainside sights his mansion provided him. "Were they able to confirm whether the serum worked?"

"They said it caused the Hood to become childlike first in abilities, then in physicality… though we were unable to confirm whether his mental state and memories remained intact. The Dark Knight was seen carting the child off to his base of operations."

_So, the prodigal son returned at last in the form of a mere child_. It was laughable. Still, their reunion would have to be short lived. Interference from the Bat had been somewhat… unexpected. The ancient had assumed Bruce would turn a blind eye to an attack on his once-protégé. Then again, the detective _lived_ to do the unanticipated. His paternalist sentiments were admirable, but ultimately futile. In any case, the child would have to be retrieved.

"Send out our best. Tell them to do as they must, but I want the boy brought to me alive. He may be the key to my future survival…"

The assistant gave an Obsequious bow and began to back away

"Oh, and Ginta?" The man looked up at him. "If there is another failure, I will have you castrated."

The servant blanched and skittered from the room with obvious haste. A smile graced the lips of Ra's as he took a sip of deep red wine. He sighed contentedly, his plans would fall into synchronization soon enough.

He only needed one Jason Todd to reach perfection.

…

Dick held Jason carefully as Alfred removed the glass (a whole half-inch piece) from the child's foot. To his credit, the boy only cried out twice during the whole process; one time when the shard had been removed, and again when Alfred had applied antiseptic to the wound. Presently, a bat squealed from above. The cave was getting cold, and Dick only held his now-baby brother a little closer.

"see? That wasn't so bad." Jason sniffed and buried his head into Dick's chest. He didn't envy Bruce the job of explaining the situation to both Tim and Damian. Still, he'd been tasked with drawing blood from the little boy who was still a little woozy from the 'calamity in the kitchen' (as it would now be referred to).

Dick looked to Alfred who was now waiting patiently with a few vials and a syringe. He had to sigh aloud.

"Hey, Jaybird? Why don't you lay back we just need to take some blood from you to make sure you're all healthy." Dick smiled but Jason eyed him suspiciously.

"I already was stuck by one of those, I don't want to again. It hurts." The older man's face screwed up in confusion.

"What do you mean? When?"

"Last night! Some men in dark clothing stuck me with one of those" He pointed to the syringes, "I don't remember what happened after that, but I remember, Dick!"

The older brother in him roared, angry and primitive. So, someone _had_ deliberately done this to his little brother. The thought frustrated him, no matter what, the criminal element should understand that Jason was a member of the Dark Knight's extended family. No matter what the young man had done in his past, he was still under the aegis of the bat symbol (especially considering his new outfit incorporated a red bat).

This probably meant whoever it was wanted something from Jason in particular.

"Dick?"

The child's unsteady voice drew him out of his thoughts. "Sorry, Little Man, but we still need a little bit of blood. Don't worry though, You and I can go get some food afterwards." He smiled at the child who lay down in resignation.

The prick made the child wince, but Dick continuously made noises and faces to distract him. Once the blood was drawn He only needed to take it to the Bat consul for study. He placed the vials of blood in a slot for the computer to first recognize as Jason's, then to analyze for any foreign entities. Sometimes having one of the fastest computer processors in the world had its perks. The testing would be done much more quickly than if they had taken the samples to a lab.

Soon, they would know exactly who had done this to Jason… hopefully.

…

Bruce paced – actually _paced_ – from one side of his father's study to the other in brisk bounds. He had just explained the situation to his two youngest (well, the two that _used_ to be his youngest). Tim looked absolutely nonchalant about the entire thing, while Damian looked like he might want to kill something… some_one_.

"Todd is a criminal. He hasn't earned the right to walk through these corridors." The child said indignantly.

"Oh shut up, Demon," Tim fired back. "If _you_ are a welcomed part of this family Jason has at least as much right."

"I'm related by blood. You have no such claims, _Drake_." The final word was spat as an insult. The little boy glared vehemently, but Tim made no motion to respond.

"That's enough! Both of you." Bruce looked between his two sons, both of which looked ready to escalate the situation. "You are _all_ my sons." He turned to Damian. "It's time you learned that blood isn't the cornerstone to family. If you can't learn to accept your brothers you will not be wearing the Robin suit, _period_."

Damian gaped at his father, then his face contorted with anger. Rather than stay and speak, the boy turned on his heels and left the study, slamming the door contemptuously.

"Well. _That_ went well."

"You know that's not true."

Tim's blue eyes met his father's evenly. "I know, Dad. I just can't deal with this right now. We need to focus on Jason."

Bruce couldn't agree more.

A knock at the door stopped any further discussion, however. Dick entered the room carrying a tired and pale looking Jason. Dick's face was grim, yet he had a smile planted there presumably for Jason's benefit.

The little boy's head shot up when they entered the room. "Daddy!" Jason struggled in his older brother's arms until Bruce, smile evident, had to lift the boy up himself.

"He did very well, didn't even cry when we had to prick him." Jason buried himself close to Bruce's heart, and the older man couldn't help but smile at this child's antics.

"well, I'm very proud of you." Bruce said. And he was, a burst of pride made its way up into his heart and wouldn't seem to leave. Jason nodded before releasing a large yawn that had the child's frame quivering. After that, he slumped forward, eyes drooping suspiciously. "Why don't you take a nap, huh? We'll have lunch when you wake up."

"'m not tired…" The child said bravely, yet the words were bellied when another yawn overtook him. From the corner of his eyes he could see Dick and Tim both cooing over this young version of Jason. Ok, Dick more so than Tim, but they both looked carefree nonetheless.

Anyway, after only a matter of moments the child was out like a light, and a deadweight in his arms – no, not _dead_. The word made his heart freeze for a moment in fear. That was the moment when he knew it beyond any reasonable doubt.

Jason was melded into his heart, invariably tied to it just as his other sons. At this moment Bruce knew it; there was no longer any uncertainty.

Jason belonged with them.

…

"What do you have?" Bruce asked quietly. Jason had been put to bed for a midday nap, slipping from Bruce's arms with no more weight than a feather. Now, the older man stood in attention, waiting for his eldest son's reply.

"Well, the DNA matches our Jason (as though there were any doubt at this point). But… It also carries trace elements that would be found in the Lazarus Pit. Ra's must have been involved here."

Bruce's eyes widened. Tim looked nonplussed. "I figured it was either him or Ivy. They are the only ones with the resources to craft something like this."

"This means we're going to have to keep a close eye on him. If Jason escaped from Ra's, then his goons are no doubt in pursuit."

Both his sons nod soberly.

"Then we need a plan." Bruce said. _We need a plan to keep my son safe._

And for once, the voice in his head that was Batman was silent as they made plans to keep Jason Todd safe.

…

Damian sat on the roof of the manor overlooking the gardens below. He sighed and kicked rocks where rocks were readily available. He'd spent the day here, and now the moon was rising along the edge of his vision. That's why the speck of dark clothing on the ground was so obvious.

Damian watched as the shrouded figure approached the house. He watched as the man silently entered Jason's room. He wondered if he should act, initially deciding against it.

But when the time came, Damian was at the window and blocking the figure's exit. The shadow moved to pick up Jason and Damian acted. He sent a flying kick at the man's jaw, nearly breaking it with the impact. Making a quick assessment of the man, it was discerned that he worked for Ra's. His grandfather.

Damian sneered, but made no more noise than his fists beating the assassin. Senseless? Perhaps. Then again, Damian was _very_ upset by his father's words.

He'd have to make some scum pay to feel better. Unfortunately he was interrupted.

Small hands grasped his mid swing. Damian turned, ready to fight, but stopped when he saw it was Jason. The boy was watching him with a kind of admiration Damian had never seen directed towards him.

"Thank you." Jason said quietly before adding: "Are you my big brother too?"

He raised his eyebrows. That was certainly something he'd never expected. Him? A big brother? Damian wasn't even much taller than the kid, maybe about a foot-and-a-half. Still, when the kid moved forward to hug him Damian did not pull away.

For once in his life, Damian was someone irrefutably important.

And it felt good to be needed.

Just then the door was slammed open and their family walked in. Bruce immediately stepped forward to lift the assassin from the floor. Dick looked amused and Tim simply seemed bored.

"I thought you didn't like him, Damian." Dick waggled his eyebrows disgustingly.

Damian just shrugged, the boy's arms still around him. "He's not so bad."

Tim smiled, "Well, look at that. Damian has a heart!"

"Shut up, Drake." He muttered. Damian figured he wouldn't ever live this down, so he settled for glaring at the older boy and swearing vengeance at a later time.


	5. I Promise

**NEXT chapter. Let me know what you think in a review. 8D**

**The next installment will involve a dramatic change… enjoy the happy fluff while you can… *evil laugh***

***coughs***

**I own nothing DC does.**

Chapter 5

An hour later the assassin was tied in the main room, his body bloody and broken after a round with Bruce. The siblings sat off to the side with Jason asleep on Damian's shoulder. Dick sat right next to these two on top of the wooden table that supported their shared weight. Tim sat in a dining room chair before them, but all watched as Bruce pulled back for another blow.

"Why did Ra's do this?" The punch hammered into the assassin's side. "Why did he send you to retrieve Jason?"

The man hadn't spoken at all except to release mumbled cries of pain. None of it was working.

"Bruce, stop. This just isn't worth it."

Bruce jabbed a finger into the assassin's chest, "He went into Jason's room to take him away. A child, Dick!"

_Careful Bruce, your sentimentality is showing,_ Dick thought.

Suddenly the air lit with tension as the man tied to the chair released a shaking bout of laughter. "You can't protect the boy, Bruce. Eventually we will get to him, and then he will suffer for every day that _you_ kept him away." Bruce's fist connected with the man's jaw.

"How can you just casually threaten the life of an innocent child?"

"Oh, it's not a threat, Mr. Wayne. Jason will be leaving with us. There won't be anything to stem the tide."

In one swift movement Bruce silenced the man, causing him to go unconscious.

"Is that true?" The family snapped around to stare at the young boy that had spoken. Jason's voice was small and scared, almost broken. They took in a collective breath.

Dick got up and knelt down to eye level with the boy. "No, Jaybird. You've got big brothers to make sure nothing happens."

Out of some strange impulse, Bruce came forward to stand before the boy as well. "You have a family, we'll keep you safe. That's our job." He smiled at the boy.

Jason looked between Dick and Bruce, then to Tim and Damian behind him with wide eyes. "I've never had… family before… Do you promise?"

Tim pulled himself from the chair to kneel down next to Bruce. "We pinky promise." Tim held out his hand, pinky forward.

Jason nodded furiously and fulfilled his part of the little handshake.

Tears filled his eyes and he looked between them before holding out his arms in an open gesture of affection. "Then you can be my Daddy and my brothers and we can be a family and we can love each other." Alfred chose at that moment to walk in and pause at the scene. The child turned innocent eyes on the old man. "Does that make you my Grandpa?"

Alfred actually blushed at the question, but Damian answered for him. "-Tt- Pennyworth? He's just the help. We're your real family."

If looks could kill, then the harsh glares sent by the brothers and Bruce would certainly have ended Damian. Jason only looked confused.

"What's 'the help'?"

…

An hour later the brothers were gathered around the island unit in the kitchen. Each of them held a different type of fruit, and each held a solid face of grim expectation. Before them was a blender of industrial quality, it was plugged in and ready for their use.

It was time.

Dick let out a battle cry of exuberance, "GO!"

With that each of them attacked the blender, adding in their fruits and struggling to get there first. Tim howled victoriously when the banana he carried made it in first, Damian cried in frustration – he hated bananas. Dick held little Jason up to add both of their ingredient into the pot: bright red strawberries for Dick and dark black pitted cherries for Jason. Damian huffed again and practically threw his white peach at the blender.

"This is a stupid ritual! I hate you all."

"aww, come on, Dami! This is tradition!" And indeed it was. Whenever the brothers got together they would make their way to the kitchen and make a very special blend of fruit and ice cream to form a smoothie-shake concoction. Strangely enough, young Jason had chosen the same fruit he had as a teenager. The goal was to get one less fruit and then ice cream flavor in the bowl as there were brothers present, it often melted into a contest of wills.

In any case, it was time to battle for ice cream. Dick had chosen simple chocolate chunk, Tim had elected peanut butter flavored, Jason wanted caramel, and Damian apparently _required_ that they use simple vanilla. Unfortunately, after a long and decisive war of rock-paper-scissors, Damian came out on top and added the boring flavor to the mix.

The different tastes and textures now added, Dick began to blend the different flavors into a single mixture.

Throughout it all, Jason jumped and cried out excitedly, very much the little boy he now was. They were all so intent on this little tradition that they never noticed their father standing in the doorway watching happily.

It was refreshing to see them all together, safe and sound and in good spirits.

Bruce could only hope they could stay like this after Jason was reverted back.

…

Three hours later his boys were lying in a heap on the long couch in the den. The only light was the fir in the chimney. Damian slept peacefully atop Dick's chest; Tim was only a few meters away curled in on himself with his head right next to Dick's. Then there was Jason he sat on the floor, looking troubled and refusing to sleep.

"What's wrong, Jason?" Bruce whispered, kneeling down to the boys level.

Jason looked startled by his approach, but soon settled and turned his eyes back to the floor. "I had a nightmare."

Bruce frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The boy sniffed and shook his head. "It was scary."

"I see." Bruce stood and then sat on the armchair to the left of his boys. He reclined the chair and put his feet up. "Well, I'll be right here, if you need me." Bruce closed his eyes and evened out his breathing.

It didn't take long before he felt the little boy climbing on top of him. Jason settled down in the crook of Bruce's arm and laid his head down on his father's chest. Bruce smiled and pulled the child closer to him. He ruffled Jason's hair affectionately and was surprised when the boy leaned in to the touch.

"I had a dream that a bad man that wouldn't stop laughing hurt me and that you weren't there and I thought you were dead just like my Mommy." The words were so soft Bruce had to wonder if the boy had spoken at all. Wet tracks streamed down Jason's face, pain and fear of abandonment evident.

Bruce lifted his head to look at the child more closely. He had his eyes shut tightly against the flow of tears, and he had curled more tightly around himself. The father in him cried out in pain at the scene. So, Jason had the memories, they were just locked away to handle the stress of being de-aged. "I would never leave you, Jason. Not if I can avoid it."

The boy opened his eyes and stared at Bruce, completely at a loss. Bruce's heart constricted painfully. He lifted the boy up to look him eye-to-eye, "I promise you, if we are ever separated I will never stop looking for you. I will bring you home. Always." He kissed the boy's brow and Jason wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck like it was his only lifeline in a sinking world.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, Buddy," Bruce whispered. Now, he closed his eyes against the tide of memories. Jason's death hit him close to the heart, but now… the little boy kept him sane. This young Jason wanted nothing more than the safety and love Bruce could provide.

Bruce intended to keep his promise.

The child shifted to lie down more fully and Bruce kept his arms securely wrapped around the boy. Safety. Maybe that was what Jason had needed all along when he had lived here. Insurance that he would always be secure, that his father would never even think to abandon him.

Whatever the case, he was here now. He could be a father now. Not the Batman, but Bruce Wayne.

For now, he held Jason tightly and drifted off to sleep even as he felt the boy's arms tighten around his middle.


	6. I Will Come For You

**It's a bit short, but here is another chapter. **

**On another note: Has anyone seen the new Young Justice? And the Reference to Jason Todd? I swear I was overcome with feels…. This is the first animated DC series that has acknowledged him! I'm so happy. So. Happy. Now all they have to do is bring him back as the Red Hood. ^^**

**Anywho… *coughs* Please leave a review. 8D**

Chapter 6

"Daddy?" The voice was frantic and afraid. The weight on his chest lifted even as Bruce attempted to tighten his arms around the boy. His eyes flew open and he was up in moments. What he saw appalled him.

There were several dozen men, all clad in black, surrounding his family. One of them, a large male with seemingly boundless strength, held a squirming Jason in his hands. The boy cried out in desperation, trying to turn, but being crushed to the man's side. His cries became ones of pain. In an instant, the room echoed with a possessive and distinctly animalistic growl. They dared to come to _his_ home to take _his_ son away?

He was at his limit, Bruce was in action. Focusing in on the assassin, moving with almost imperceptible agility, Bruce made his way through the throngs of men. The assassins reacted as one, converging around the taller man. Bruce beat his way through the first wave only to be joined by his sons.

"You boys havin' a party?" Dick asked as he hurled a few knockout punches.

"Oh boy, yet another exciting evening at Wayne Manor." Tim remarked nonchalantly tripping several of the oncoming warriors. The brothers moved with fluid grace between each other, twisting this way and that to not only avoid oncoming blows, but also to give the other sibling a better angle for attack. Bruce fell into the formation easily. They would work their way to Jason.

Damian flipped over several of the assassins with relative ease, managing to catch a few in the jaw with his feet. "These are my Grandfather's men."

"Yes." Bruce growled, bringing his knee up with lithe power. The four twirled and somersaulted over the battle like dancers performing their most elaborate and deadly spinoff. Ever the acrobat, Dick spent most of his time in the air landing only to knock out as many of the intruders as possible before flipping up again. Bruce was all about power tonight, landing heavy blows that continuously elicited satisfying snaps.

One by one, the assassin's dropped to the family's feet.

But that was the problem. Most of the men were on the ground, but the tall and muscular one that had vanished.

Jason was gone.

Bruce let out a battle cry full of rage and hate. How had he not seen this? How had he failed _twice_?

The voice in his head dedicated to Batman whispered frankly into his mind. _Not yet, there's still a twenty-four hour window. Jason can still be saved._

For his son's sake, Bruce hoped that voice was telling the truth.

…

The world blurred past him in a startling arrangement of images. He rubbed his eyes tiredly only to find that his limbs felt full of lead. Each movement felt too slow and Jason felt his heart begin to beat against his ribs. He was afraid, cold began to creep into his limbs. He shivered, trying desperately to regain his bearings.

He searched his surroundings for some sign of familiarity.

That was when he realized he was alone. Wherever he was, it was dark inside. The window to his side showed large puffs of cloud, close enough to reach out and touch. The sight only made him tremble more erratically.

"Daddy?" He whimpered quietly.

The lights flickered on and Jason was blinded.

When his eyes finally adjusted, there was the tall man that had grabbed him to begin with.

Jason scowled, his fear forgotten for a moment.

"My name is Arif. We will be arriving soon. Be on your best behavior, boy, and follow my lead."

"Yeah? Where am I? Why did you take me away from my Dad?"

The man advanced on him and grasped his wrist painfully. "You _will_ obey, understand?"

Jason tugged at his arm, trying to move away. Then he spat at the man's face. "_Where_. Is. My. Dad?" he ground out.

The man's face contorted with anger. His fist rose and came down quickly. The boy could already feel the bruise forming as his head twisted with the blow. "Hold your tongue."

Jason growled angrily and spat once more at the man's feet. The next blow was expected; it stung his face and made him gasp with pain.

After that the man turned on his heel and left, fury still rolling off him in waves.

The lights were switched off and Jason was plunged into darkness once again. In the midst of the silence, the boy lifted his fist to hold between his teeth. The tears ran down his face and he choked back a few strangled sobs. He was confused, tired, and unbearably dejected. More than anything, however, Jason missed Bruce.

As the tears began to dry on his cheeks, Jason let out a silent whisper pleading for whatever source would hear to take him back to his father.

More than anything, Jason didn't want to be alone.

"Don't forget about me, Daddy…" He whispered, sniffing quietly.

Time dragged out before him and eventually Jason had to turn over and settle uncomfortably into sleep.

…

Damian's fist connected with the table in an intermittent rhythm that any army could march their soldiers to. Dick listened to the sound with only minimal attention. Bruce was at the Bat computer, completely absorbed with finding Jason. Dick's feet hung loosely over the edge of the medical table off to the right. He laid his head in his hands and groaned tiredly. The sound of clicking keys mingled in the air with the consistent pound, and Dick let himself fall into an unfocused stupor.

That was until Tim stopped pacing in the Cave and spoke. "Will you stop that, Demon!"

The boy turned up only long enough to glare at Tim. "I despise you, Drake."

"Good, then you'll stop doing that."

Damian lifted his arm and brought it down on the table.

"That's it." Tim took two long strides and shifted into a fighting stance.

"Both of you shut up!" Dick shouted. "Sit." He pointed to the floor.

His brothers grumbled quietly, but did as they were told. It had been over six hours since Jason's kidnapping and the family was a bundle of nerves. Even Damian.

When the henchmen had been taken care of, the brothers had scoured the city in search of the little bird, but to no avail. That had taken the first two hours. Dick couldn't help but think it was time they didn't have.

The bodies of the assassins had been taken care of with a few nimble phone calls by Alfred to the police. Dick had taken care of the questions and commented on the outlandish choice of attire for apparent thieves, often flashing his badge to assure that he was in good moral standing. Once they were taken care of, the brothers had migrated to the Cave to wait for further news.

So far it had been a string of frustration and curses, but no word on the little boy. Bruce made agitated whispers every now and again, his attention funneled into the keyboard. Dick's heart broke for his father; this would be the second time Jason had disappeared… Dick prayed that this time would not end in the same tragic way….

Dick hoped that whoever this was had not hurt Jason. His inner focus was all on the little boy, who he had been and what he was now. He decided that Even if they were able to fix this molecular mishap, Jason would be his little brother. Dick would take care of him, even after he no longer needed it.

"I've got it." Bruce stood up, pushing the chair back several paces in his determination. "If I am right about where they are taking him, then I'm going to need all of you."

All three heads snapped up at the breach of calm. In seconds they were dressed and climbing aboard the Batjet.

"Where do you think they're headed?"

"Russia. Ra's owns a compound there that has recently employed several doctors and scientists. The house has also retained an increase in medical supply. They will be taking him there."

Dick nodded grimly before placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "We'll find him, Dad. He'll be all right."

The older man stared at him for a moment, seeming much older than his age. "We will." He said at last, though more to himself than to Dick.

Then they were taking off, headed for Russia and Jason.


	7. The Mockingbird

**Next chapter… posted… More will be explained in later chapters, so don't be worried if things don't come full circle yet. Thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews, they keep me motivated to write!**

****Also, as a side note, to the person who sent me the nasty PM… NO. I am NOT anti-homosexual. I do not portray the bats as having relationships with each other because I consider them family members, father-son, brother-sibling. I have mentioned, in my other fics, relationships with Stephanie and Barbara because those were canon… Nonetheless, if I have offended anyone, I am sorry. These are just my personal feelings and my own expression of their dynamic. Thank You.****

**Disclaimer: I own nothing DC does. **

Chapter 7

"Move."

The man shoved him again, Jason nearly toppled over his own clumsy feet this time. Everything seemed slowed down, his mind caught in a perpetual cycle of exhaustion. It turned out that he had been right about the bruise forming. A large blue-and-black mark formed on his face, swelling one eye almost closed. It hurt, but Jason would have to deal with it.

As it stood, he was being led – pushed really – through an oversized house, one that was larger by far than his Father's mansion. The carpet beneath his feet was exotic in decoration and soft to the touch, and he knew that because his feet were still bare. Jason decided that he hated the carpet; it was nothing like his Dad's and, therefore, it was inherently a bad carpet.

Pictures of places that Jason had never seen before – or _thought_ he had never seen before – hung loosely on the wall depicting ancient rituals and grassy plains. As the hallway stretched on, the paintings became darker, more ominous, and, frankly, more gruesome. Eventually, Jason had to stop looking at them. Instead, he focused on the never-before-seen plants and wooden fixtures that dotted the place every which way. He didn't like it here.

A heavy hand came down on his shoulder, a grip just tight enough to be painful. It pulled him from his musings and brought his feet to an abrupt stop. Before him stood a large wooden door with intricate carvings all across it that depicted the same foreboding scenes as the paintings.

Jason was unimpressed.

The door was thrown open and the boy was thrust inside. Arif, the man that had led him thus far, closed the heavy door to leave Jason alone. Well, apparently not as alone as he thought.

The room was dark, with only the dim light cast by a fire in the center to guide his eyes to a dark shrouded visage. The fleeting light allowed him to see only minimal features of the figure. He could see carefully pricked hair, which parted in two directions; he could see the cloak that the man wore swish as he turned to face the boy.

Rather than wait for the demon to speak, Jason allowed his own words to mingle with the air. "What the hell do you want?"

In the dim environment, Jason could just make out a smile gracing the man's face. Then, the face contorted, its eyes reflecting deviously. Suddenly, the creature was knelt down face-to-face with Jason. How it had moved so quickly, the boy had no idea, but staring into its eyes, Jason felt a cold fear trickle down his spine. His face was wrinkled beyond its years and hung too loosely from the skeletal frame.

"What do I want?" The man grasped Jason's chin in a firm, unbreakable and painful hold. "I want the fruit of my struggle." He twisted the boy's face from one side to the other, as though he were inspecting a piece of meat. The jerking motion only intensified the throbbing in his head.

Jason managed to glare, struggling to pull away from the creature. "Yeah? Well, I'm not your property. I want to see my Dad."

"The detective?" The man released a high laugh and sent cold, creeping chills up the boy's spine. "He is no one's father. He's just a man placating to the emotions of children."

Jason scrunched up his face and gave one final tug, the man released him in the same instant and he fell back to land in a heap on the carpet. He gave a glare that was full of hate and anger. "I took care of my Mom, and she died. I took care of my Dad, but he left and then I had to fend for myself. Bruce is the first person that took care of _me_, made sure I was safe; gave me a warm home and brothers that like me too. He cares about me. _He's_ my real Dad." He stood up quickly and braced himself for whatever came next.

"How infantile. You're mother died because she had to deal with a brat and a dead-beat husband, your father left because he didn't want to be saddled with a boy; and Bruce… Bruce has never cared for any of his protégés as anything other than a soldier. _Blood_ is the only qualifier for family. It's the only thing that matters." The man said with a cruel contempt. "_Now_ you are an experiment, nothing more. Through you, I will find the key for eternal life beyond the Lazarus Pit…"

Jason's small fists clenched at his sides, tears pricked in his eyes, but he remained strong and angry. "You're a liar." He said, though a voice deep inside him cried out that each word was true, that Jason was the poison that killed or drove everyone away … and it whispered that maybe Bruce _was_ better off without him…

"I am Ra's Al Ghul."

"You're still a liar."

"Believe of me what you will, child. You _will_ submit."

The conversation was just dragging out to the point that Jason could barely keep himself upright. Nonetheless, a voice inside him, one that sounded exactly like his Father's, urged him on. Keeping that whisper close to his heart, Jason hissed out the worst word he'd ever said. "_Fuck _you, asshole."

The man smiled; a white gleaming show of teeth that cracked across his face. "Your faith in Bruce is admirable, but misplaced. You've quite the heart, child, but I must insist that from here on in you refrain from such outbursts. You will comply with _all_ of my regulations, and I will promise you that each round will cause only nominal discomfort."

Jason glared at him before turning his gaze to the ground. "I hate you."

"An inconsequential matter. Arif, escort young Jason out. Put him in the cell." He turned back to Jason as the door opened. "We'll chat later, boy."

Jason backed up, feeling far too much like a cornered animal. He growled, a feral sound from deep in his throat; the fear was back. His teal-blue eyes darted around in absolute focus, his body pumping with adrenaline.

He was trapped in another impossible situation.

…

"_Don't worry, Bruce. We're leaving right now."_

"_You're fine, sweetheart."_

_Bruce nodded and looked between his parents, love swelling his heart. "I'm still sorry I got scared…"_

_His father laughed, a full and hearty thing that seemed to have a home in the air. He knelt down before his son and put his hands across Bruce's shoulders. "It's OK to be scared, Bruce. That's why you have a Dad; to protect you until you can protect yourself. I'll always be here for you."_

_His mother laid a dainty hand on his head and ruffled the dark locks there. Bruce found himself leaning into the touch and he smiled. Whatever fears he'd had disappeared with her hand._

"_Give me all the money you got." An angry voice. Cold, cruel. _

_The glint of metal, a flash, nothing more. The ban, loud, deafening, painful… Cold, warmth…_

_Blood, everywhere. His father whispered "it will be OK," The light faded in his eyes. _

_His parents were bloody, neat little holes drilled into them. The monster that killed them retreated, he was alone… _

_Bruce screamed._

"_NO!" _

Bruce came awake with one startled burst that left him gasping for air. His hands shook violently, and he found he was colder than he had been in a long while. Not even the freezing gusts of Gotham had been like this. Sweat dribbled down his brow, and he breathed deeply in an attempt to calm his fractured nerves, to little effect. Distraction. That was what he needed. Bruce let his eyes wander; the jet was still in autopilot and they were still on their way to Russia, to Jason.

But his father's words still echoed ominously in the air, and Bruce could not for the life of him shake the feeling of dread that passed through the air.

In an effort to calm his scattered nerves, his gaze passed over his sons. Each looked peaceful in sleep, all three curled up on their chairs and resting to regain strength after the long day. He ran a hand through his hair. Tension relaxed from his shoulders.

He sighed. The screen before him lit up and whispered that they were approaching the compound.

He would get there in time, Jason's safety was paramount. He would keep his son safe until the boy was a man once again.

Maybe even after that.

He turned around in his seat and rested a hand on Dick's shoulder gently. "Dick? We're almost there. Wake your brothers. It's time to get Jason back."

His eldest shifted in his seat before opening his dark blue eyes. After a few tired, slow gestures Dick smiled. "Let's go get my brother."

"_Our_ brother, Dick." The two turned to see Damian and Tim sitting straight and equally alert.

Bruce allowed a reluctant grin to transform his expression. He settled down into the seat and awaited their too-slow descent into the Al Ghul compound.


	8. Caged

**SO… thank you to everyone that took the time to review this and other works, I really appreciate the feedback! You guys inspire me to write. So... Thank you! **

**Also: don't worry, things will be explained further in the next chapter.**

Chapter 8

The opulent mansion was everything one would expect out of it. Chandeliers hung loosely from the ceiling, and lavish caricatures spread themselves upon each wall. The carpet was as crimson red as blood, setting the mood for an ominous evening.

Dick followed closely behind Bruce while Tim and Damian stood shoulder to shoulder behind them. All were emanating a cold fury that came with protective instincts. It had taken moments after landing to pull up the holographic layout of the building, and even less time to discern where Ra's would be.

That wasn't the problem.

The problem was that there were no security guards. There was no assassin welcoming committee and, more importantly, there was no Jason.

A set of double doors stood indifferently up ahead and Bruce, with perhaps more anger and resentment than was necessary, threw open the terrible things.

What the family saw had them all widening their eyes.

"_Mother_?!"

"_Talia_?"

The woman in question turned gracefully, each of her lithe muscles constricting under the skin-tight black suit she wore. She smiled sadly, a spark of regret ringing in her crystalline eyes.

"Beloved. Son." She said, addressing each with a slight nod and ignoring the others. "I wondered when you would come."

Damian stepped back a little, though his stance was anything but relaxed. The boy looked ready to pounce… yet he still sought the comfort of having a family at his back. Bruce laid a hand on his son's shoulder to hold him close and steady the trembling there. "What are you doing here? Where is Jason?"

The woman did not move. Her eyes were still trained on Bruce.

"I am so sorry, Beloved…"

"What have you done, Talia?" Bruce asked, his voice too filled with hate for her to bear.

The woman allowed a scowl to take hold of her feature before sauntering over to stand nose-to-nose with the Father. "I have done nothing, Bruce… And that is the problem."

"Care to elaborate?"

She smiled coyly, "Your son is not here."

"Oh really? And we're supposed to believe you played no part, right?" Dick growled, moving to stand beside his father in a line of rigidity.

"Allow me to explain. My father-"

"Yes, your father has been playing around and shrunk Jason. Get on with it," Tim said with a tone of absolute annoyance. He was getting tired of these games and if his calculations were correct, then by now Ra's could be doing all manner of experiments on the boy.

"My father… He believes the Lazarus pit has begun to affect his mind… He's become desperate." She paused to pace across the room, genuinely in a state of disarray. Looking at her now, Bruce recognized several out-of-place details. Her hair was not in perfect unison, her pacing lacked her natural predatory rhythm, and her nails showed signs of general agitation.

"My Father began to experiment with an aging serum, something that would give him the vitality of youth without the damaging effects of the pit… You must believe me that the moment he mentioned the need for a subject that had been healed by the Lazarus pool, I tried to hide Jason's movements, but…" She faltered, something that Talia never did.

"Go on," Bruce coaxed. His sons shifted somewhat uncomfortably as the moment unfolded. All but Tim, who stood back and took in the situation from a detached vantage.

"When he found Jason, I tried to slow down the attack on your son. I tried to stop the mechanics of it, the movements of the League. I'm sorry, Beloved, I failed."

"Then why are you here?" Tim asked objectively.

Talia swiveled, seeming to just notice his presence. "I am looking for Jason."

"And how did you know that he was even taken?"

"Do not underestimate me, child. I was looking into Jason's disappearance since the day this all began. My father thought he cut me out of the stream of information, and I do admit, this little mishap is certainly a setback," She paused, glancing around uncertainly. "I believed he would be here…"

"Computer, scan for life signatures." Bruce said, raising his hand to the com-link in his ear. The signal reported to the Cave, which began the scan immediately.

When the scan came back over their linked systems, he was unsurprised to hear that Jason's unique signature was not present in the compound. Tim hunched over the holographic computer system in his gauntlet, simultaneously performing his own background scans on other possible locations.

"Bruce, we need to go." Tim searched for other potential compounds, deflating as no hits came back. It would only take one mistake by Ra's for them to find Jason. Only one. Then there would be no stopping the ensuing chaos. Problem was, Ra's _hadn't_ messed up. The man was hidden even from Tim's sharp eyes. He cursed under his breath, and then brought his attention back to Bruce, waiting for the next cue from his father-figure.

Bruce nodded before turning to Damian. "Do you need a minute?" He asked sincerely. The older man looked sullen and deep in thought, perhaps even pained. He still had time for Damian, if the boy needed it.

The boy met gazes with his mother, his dark blue eyes tending to obfuscate any emotion held in their depths. "No. My brother needs me," he said. Bruce nodded in recognition and together the family turned, leaving Talia to stare wide-eyed after her son.

_He has changed_, she thought. _They all have_.

…

He'd gotten over the darkness within a relatively short period of time. He'd been afraid out of his mind when Arif had thrown him into the small unadorned room, sure, but that had easily given way to desperation and cool rationality. He needed to get out. After his eyes had finally adjusted, Jason had been searching for ways to escape. the nails, – screwed in tightly, useless – the wood beneath his feet, – sturdy, useless – perhaps the metal headboard– sturdy, iron, useless. The process took all of a few minutes to complete, but once he turned back to the solidly closed door he was armed with what little knowledge the analysis had provided him. there was no easy way out of here and there were no makeshift weapons to be used.

He definitely wasn't sure, but, if he was right, he was being let out once a day – night? – for testing.

Jason had learned quickly not to resist, the first time he had been brought out Jason had gone full out kicking and fighting. _Might as well go down swinging, right? _Jason he thought.

That had resulted in a few more lousy bruises to add to his growing collection.

Jason could almost feel the manic glee that rolled off of the older man each time that clenched fist came at him. For some inexplicable reason, it felt familiar – not the beatings, of course, he was used to those – it was in the way that Arif smiled even as blood trickled down Jason's face. A shadow darted across his vision, nothing large, just a slight flash of red and yellow. Jason quickly dismissed the ephemeral shadows, choosing instead to curl up in defense against the devastating attack.

In a reluctant state of submission, the boy allowed Arif to lead him through the same dark and gloomy hallway as before only heading in the opposite direction of Ra's. Jason only barely suppressed a yelp of pain, his back arching uncomfortably, as the man's hand came down on his shoulder and twisted him towards a set of wooden doors. Inside was a sterile vision of a doctor's office. It was not at all warm; it held no colorful posters, informational brochures or otherwise comforting images. It was nothing like the one His father had taken him to. For the life of him, Jason could not decide what was worse, the detached room or the fact that Bruce could not be there to hold his hand...

Arif lifted him onto a white exam table and stood by while someone who he assumed was a doctor took notes on a brown clipboard. The next thing he knew, the middle-aged bastard was sticking needles into his arms and pulling blood like a goddamned vampire. Jason was sure that the Doc had a name, but from here on out Jason had decided he was an ass. Honestly, the needle dropping into his veins wasn't at all unbearable (he wasn't a wuss), it was the vial after vial _after _vial that killed him. The bastard did not stop until he had a neat little pile of Jason's blood lined up in waiting.

In that moment he was all too aware of how much he longed for home. The screaming urge to feel his family around him and know that he was safe… it billowed inside him like clouds weighed down by the burden of rain. He missed Dick, and Tim, and Damian, and… his Dad… He wanted his Dad.

A snap and pinch at his arm brought him out of his soggy memories as another vial was added to the line. By the end of it Jason was disoriented and tired beyond what he had ever felt. Nonetheless, Arif dropped him on his feet and pushed him to walk. Stumbling along down the same hallways as before, Jason was proud to say he only tripped three times. Eventually (it seemed like hours), they made it back to his 'room', where he was shoved inside and told he would be fed in an hour. The blackness that surrounded filled him with a sense of finality, so much so that even after Arif returned with plate after plate of food Jason refused to eat. The process became a cycle; Jason would be taken for testing, often involving blood being drawn or being hooked up to various machines, then returning to the darkness and remaining there until the next instance of change.

Every moment dragged into the next and Jason had to fight back tears of absolute despondency. Most of the time he slept, mindful of keeping his arms and legs close to his body to protect himself if need be. Eventually, he lost track of all time (it was such a fickle, fluid thing anyway). After a while he found that he didn't care about anything anymore. When the Bastard Doctor told him they were going to perform some kind of MRI on him, he didn't care. When Arif beat him for not eating, he didn't care. When the man forced him to swallow small bits of food, he didn't care. When Ra's said he was upset with their progress, Jason did not care.

"It's been nearly a month, Arif, Why haven't you found _something_?" The old man screamed.

"The Doctor hasn't found any anomalies in his blood except the markers from the Lazarus pit, and even those are starting to go…" Arif shoved Jason to the floor. "The little rat refuses to eat, so the Doc can't even draw much more blood."

The boy decided he was best suited there; he drew up his legs and rested his chin atop them. His eyes stared straight forward without really comprehending the visual cues. Soon enough he didn't even hear the shouting or feel the hatred that fluctuated around him. The numbness honestly had very little to do with his current position, it had to do with the separation. He missed the warm embrace of family life, he missed being called "brother" and "son", he missed being loved… and thinking of that pain filled him with a sense of dreadful mourning.

_Indifference is easier_, his mind supplied. Some voice deep inside screamed for him to keep a tight grip on hope, but that voice was just too far away. Jason was tired of being fooled, honestly, what if Bruce _had_ forgotten him?

_What if he never cared in the first place?_ A small voice cried, small and fragile.

_He does. He's coming. He will be here. Dad always comes in time. _Jason had to look up at that, the voice sounded like his own, yet older. In his mind's eye the boy could just make out the visage of a boy wrapped in red and yellow…

But that was absurd.

Wasn't it?


	9. Fuzzy Bats

**Thank you to all the wonderful people that have reviewed this so far, each one really encouraged me to keep writing. Thanks so much!**

**Anywho… Next chapter. This one's a little longer than expected so... Let me know what you think in a review. 8D**

Chapter 9

Electronics crashed to the floor as Bruce swept them all away. Rage emanated off him in waves that could knock back a fully powered-up Bane. Almost two months and still no sign of his son.

_By now he could already be…_

_No!_ He couldn't even think it. He could _Not_ be too late a second time. Never again.

The family had been searching non-stop for the wayward bird, but to no end. Ra's had scrambled their signals each time they got close, changing his tactics constantly to throw the hounds off his trail. It was frustrating beyond end.

Each time he closed his eyes he could see Jason, bloody and broken at the end of that godforsaken crowbar… eyes glassy, never to shine with that brilliant glint…

He couldn't stay on that road either.

So… computer tracing.

The signals on the screen weren't really signals, the roads that appeared were never really roads, and the transactions that appeared for shipments were not really transactions at all. Everything was methodically planned to prevent Bruce from finding Jason. Tim and Dick had gone to Barbara to gain her insight, but even she, with all her technical know-how, could not keep a proper trace open for more than a few moments before it was bounced.

It all added up to days without sleep, an uptake in sale of caffeinated products, and an overuse of amphetamines.

Bruce rubbed at his bloodshot eyes once more, trying to read the screen more clearly.

"Bruce?" The voice nearly had him jumping out of his skin, but outwardly he did not respond at all.

IT was a bat. A fluffy, overstuffed goddamned bat. A talking bat.

It bounced on the edge of his vision, even as he shooed it away angrily. The hallucinations had begun after only a few days of his sleep deprivation. Usually they could be ignored, but not today. Today they had become unbearable, to the point that Bruce was seriously considering changing the logo on the suit. Of course, then he would have to change the Bat signal, rack up some infamy for the new name, redesign the cave and – that was way too much work. He shook his head to clear it somewhat.

Soon more of the little creatures had piled up in front of his eyes and clamored for attention. Bruce rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, the little things were still bouncing across his vision in chaotic paths. He lifted his coffee mug only to find it completely empty. He checked the paper beneath it quickly. _12:02_. He should wait at least another two hours before he dared ask Alfred for another. The older man had already castigated him for the overabundant reliance on caffeine, and Bruce just wasn't up for another round with the man.

His head was pounding and his hands trembled uncontrollably, a sign of both his mounting debt to sleep and the drugs. His sons had been screaming at him to sleep since the first day he had begun the search. Bruce couldn't allow it, however. Jason needed him and, even though a part of him that was ever-logical reminded him that he would be much more efficient if he got sleep… he just couldn't force his eyes closed.

Every time he blinked he could see Jason in his coffin.

Sleep would drive him mad. He was sure of it.

_And what would you call this, exactly?_ The voice that belonged to Batman asked.

Bruce growled noncommittally, using his hands to part the sea of fluffy nocturnal creatures that gathered before him. He would probably have been declared legally insane with how much sleep deprivation he had racked up.

God he was so scatter brained.

"Bruce?"

He ignored the voice.

"_Bruce_." It said again, He couldn't help it. He turned around.

Tim stood before him, blurry, but there nonetheless. "What?" he ground out.

"I know I'm not exactly the poster case for good advice on sleeping habits, but you _really_ need to get some rest."

"You're right. You don't have any room to talk."

Tim's expression fell, "Bruce… Dad… Please, just take a nap. If we do find a location for Jason, you need to be at the top of your game." He paused when Bruce's eyes narrowed behind the cowl. "Can't you just trust that we will be looking for him?"

"I've left him in the hands of someone else before. With his mother. In case you hadn't noticed, that didn't work out so well."

Tim winced.

"That's what I thought." He growled, turning to head up the stairs and leave his son standing alone in the cave. It didn't seem like there was enough time for anything, especially arguing with Tim.

He needed more coffee.

When the clock opened to his study Dick was standing before him. "Sorry ahead of time for this, Dad."

To his annoyance – and fear – that was the last thing he saw before the encroaching waves of exhaustion took him.

…

The cold of the metal on his skin was comforting, it actually made his burning skin feel somewhat cool. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his brow knitted in concentration and pain. Every movement was uncomfortable to his ultra-sensitive body, like his skin was crawling with tiny, prickly bugs. He coughed half-heartedly. The delirium was only just beginning and he could feel himself sway on the edge.

So, apparently, trying to avoid eating was a good recipe for illness.

Seriously, who knew?

He groaned and clutched at his stomach as its rumble vibrated through him.

"He's sick." Doctor Asshole pronounced.

Arif scoffed, "No shit. Why?"

"He hasn't been eating."

"I know."

"Well, that's why."

"It's not my fault!" The henchman raised his voice.

"Well, it's not mine, either." The Doc said.

Vaguely Jason wondered why both of them appeared blurry on the edges, but the idea was quickly shoved aside when Ra's stormed through the door to the medical bay. He was clad in the same clothes as the first day Jason had laid eyes on him.

"What is the boy doing here?" He asked.

"He is ill."

"I can see that. Why isn't he 'ill' back in his cell?"

Arif and Dr. Asshole exchanged glances. Neither proclaimed an answer.

"I was planning on doing more experimentation today, but in lieu of this flu-like infection…" The Doctor said.

"Take him back to his cell." Ra's ground out, his jaw clattering with frustration. Arif stepped forward and began to gather Jason into his arms. As much as Jason hated being held, he was really in no position to walk…

"What do you think you're doing? He can walk."

Arif dropped him instantly. The boy landed ungraciously on the floor, but stood up quickly to avoid too much humiliation. His head spun and his head pounded painfully, but Jason managed a glare through it all as he was led from the room.

_Don't worry, Jay. You'll be fine_ a voice whispered encouragingly. It was the boy in red and yellow again, but the voice was stronger now, closer to the surface of consciousness. It was like the other person was a part of him, guiding him when he needed it, all the while getting closer and closer to joining with Jason fully…

He wondered if the merging of their minds would be painful.

…

Alfred watched as the boys gingerly laid Bruce down on the romantically carved couch.

"OK, I don't think I ever fully took into account how heavy muscle really is. I have realized the error of my ways," Dick huffed out.

"Less talk, more right," Tim hissed. They let out a collective sigh of relief when the older man was placed firmly on the furniture without risk of falling. "Sorry, Dad, but we need you at your best, and that can't happen if you're dead tired."

"he will be all right, young Sirs." Alfred whispered, though at the time he wasn't sure who he was talking about, Bruce or Jason.

Tim and Dick nodded in sequence. "Oracle said she would let us know if she found anything, in the meantime we all could use a bit of sleep."

"I shall wake you the moment I hear any news." Alfred said solemnly.

The boys nodded once again and then began to make their way towards the stairs, though Tim seemed somewhat reluctant.

When they had gone Alfred turned back to the sleeping form of the man that had been like his son for the longest time. The worry lines were evident there, and Bruce continually muttered a single word under his breath: "Jason". The old man's heart broke, both for the man asleep on the couch and for the lost member of their household.

After a moment, he straightened, pulled his suit jacket off and went into the kitchen. The phone was there, and Alfred could only hope that by cooking some of the stress would leave his world-weary bones.

…

Burning. Everywhere, waking up it lit his body at every nerve and caused him to release a strangled cry of agony. He arched his back in contempt, in rebellion against the pain, but nothing seemed to work. It was like his bones were popping out of joint, growing too quickly for his skin to catch up. Each snap echoed in the air leaving him gasping for breath, and suddenly he couldn't hold it back anymore.

He screamed.

His body contorted once more at impossible angles before finally allowing him to fall to the floor, limp as a ragdoll. He looked over to see Ra's staring at him intently, a large frown spread across his face.

"It's starting to wear off. He's aged forwards, probably to about ten or twelve," The man stated, apparently oblivious to the child's anguish. "Make note of the fact that it took under two months."

Arif stood at his right and wrote down on a stylized computer exactly as his master requested. Jason groaned at the spinning images of stars before his eyes. His mind swam in a pool of confusion and delirium, remembering steps and battle maneuvers, past events and words shared that comprised his short existence. It was like a stab of ink had landed in a clear glass, diluting it slowly. His experience of past events was muddled, yet clear; chaotic, yet orderly. He remembered his parents, but it was like time had been changed and Bruce was there… His awareness of the change was what struck him into a dumbfounded quiver. Everything was different, Jason remembered Bruce not as a mentor, but as a father. It wasn't like before, yet it was; the connection between them, often in a mysterious limbo, was solidified.

Jason remembered himself as a young child, being protected by Bruce… it only made the separation from him now more pronounced.

It made the boy in him that grew up on the streets fiercely aware and angry. He would need to use his head to get out of this mess. Remembering his training as Robin would certainly serve to his advantage, but only if he played his cards right.

Keeping that in mind, he dialed back his voice and dumbed down his elocution. "what's going on? Where's my Dad?" He asked groggily. He didn't need to fake the wince as he tried to stand, he allowed the two standing before him to watch as he stumbled forward.

_Easy Jay, don't screw yourself now._

"I wonder," Ra's said, "is this transformation due to the progression of time, or the stress endowed by his new home?"

Jason's heart constricted, like a muscle flexing out of anger. He felt the old hate stirring deep in his gut. "This is _not_ my home."

"temper, temper. Quiet him down, Arif."

The man stepped forward and Jason made a split second decision that he prayed would later give him the advantage he would need. He allowed himself to be punched in the gut, hit in the face, he allowed his feet to be swept out from under him. Falling to the ground, Jason forced his body to calm down.

_Bastard!_ The voice inside him screamed. _Fight back, Jason!_ It commanded.

Mentally he shook his head, it would do no good.

He had to bide his time on this one. His Dad would come for him. Bruce would be here, it was just a matter of when.

It had to be.

…

Bruce woke with a startled cry as sunlight lit his face. The warmth was a comfort, but inside he knew it meant that his eyes had been closed – that was time wasted, time that Jason may not have.

He growled out an angry and frustrated cry that echoed through his home.

Alfred was there in moments, holding what seemed to be a tray of coffee mugs. "is that really necessary, Master Bruce?"

Bruce glared at the older man before leaping up off the couch. "it's absolutely necessary, Alfred. Where are the boys?"

"In the cave, Sir. They woke only a few hours before you."

Bruce grunted in response, took a hold of one of the mugs and downed its content with relative ease. The drink was piping hot and burned his tongue, but he was glad for it. The pain brought him into full alertness. He stormed out of the room with his father-figure only a step behind on his way to the study, and the Cave.

"how dare you." He said as his boys came into view. Tim was hard at work by the computer, typing manically at each key while Dick flipped through a case file Bruce recognized as the one he had been meaning to look through before they had knocked him out. Damian lay sleeping on the medical bay beds.

"How dare we make sure you're healthy?" Tim asked sarcastically.

"A drop in efficiency is worth what I would have made up in time. Time that Jason doesn't have."

Dick closed the file and stood straighter, facing Bruce with a glare that was far too close to his own. "This is _not_ like last time, Dad. Ra's will want to keep Jason alive."

"You wouldn't know. You weren't there."

Bruce almost felt guilty when his eldest winced at the harsh words. Almost.

"I think I have a lead." Tim interrupted

Bruce's attention switched like the flicker of lights. "What is it?" he asked as he moved to stand behind his son.

"With Oracle's help I think I've narrowed it down to two places. One is in Korea and the other in Egypt. We just need to-"

A distinct ringing filled the air and interrupted Tim. The bird-like hum resonated through the cave and took their attention to the cell phone vibrating in tune with it. Bruce's cell.

Bruce lifted it from the table as the boys gathered around closely.

An international call.

"Tim, start a remote trace. Now."

…

The alarm bells were a severe warning that his absence had been noted. Still, Jason could hide, he could even get away if he were at top capability.

Unfortunately neither was a good option considering how emaciated he had become in the past few weeks. If he hid, they would find him. If he ran, they would catch him in no time.

This was the only viable option. He'd begun forming the plan since he had first noticed the contraption, now it was play time.

After being taken by Arif, Jason had easily slipped from the man's grasp. He'd caught a heavy fist to the face, but none of that mattered if he could do this. The growth spurt, as painful as it had been to endure, had certainly helped him in dealing with Arif and anyone that came across his path. By now he was sure his Father was looking for him. He guessed that Bruce needed a hand and, despite the gnawing fear in his belly, Jason was determined to help.

He lifted the mechanical device from the hook and brought it to his ear when the dial tone took over he began to panic. Bruce had made him memorize all the phone numbers for both the house and the cell phones of himself and Dick. Jason wasn't worried about that, he only worried that in his absence the numbers had changed – that would make it all for nothing.

Another ring, then –

"_Identify yourself_." Jason's heart just about leapt out of his chest in a bound of joy.

"Dad?" He whispered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"_Jason! Are you all right? Have they hurt you_?" Not _why didn't you find a way to call sooner,_ or _why did Ra's want you_, but _are you OK._ It was comforting.

"I'm fine. I'm going to try and stay on the line long enough for you to trace this."

"_We're coming to get you Jason. Hold on, son_." _Son_. That felt good to hear too.

Another voice cut into the line, Dick's. "_What have they been doing to you, Littlewing_?"

Jason looked around the room, wariness taking hold even as his heart soared. "Experiments, mostly. They… They took a lot out of me." He said, though his voice quivered as he thought back to them. "I… I want to go home…"

The little kid was still there with him, joyful at hearing his Father's voice, but afraid of the repercussions of this call. The anxiety was beginning to affect both of them.

"_We're on our way, Jason. We'll get there in time._" His Father's voice assured, though it seemed to shake with some uncontrollable tremble.

He was about to respond when a heavy hand on his shoulder forced him to inhale sharply and turn around. Arif was there with Ra's, both glaring down at him fiercely. Inside his chest, all movement stopped and he was frozen in place. Like a deer caught in headlights he was seized with panic. Then, as if a switch had been turned, all movement resumed. Jason's eyes widened, his heartbeat began again at a frantic rate, and a small whimper escaped his throat. "I-I'm scared." He whispered, his voice shaking. His mind threw at him images that he didn't quite remember – images of a clown, of the glint off a metal crowbar, and of agony.

"_Jason? Son! What's happening?_"

Arif's fist collided with his stomach and Jason swore he saw stars. The boy released a strangled cry, but did not relinquish his hold of the phone.

"_Jason_!" anger was in that voice now. Jason couldn't really focus on it, though, because another fist was thrown at him. He collapsed, the phone dropping with him. It was still on, overhearing each grunt of pain that escaped his mouth. Jason tried to contain himself, but after a few kicks and a couple of wet snaps he was gasping for air and clutching at his sides insanely trying to stem the flow of pain.

"_Ra's_!" His Father's voice boomed through the earpiece. "_If you so much as touch a hair on his head, I will bury you_!" it said, the sound so full of hate and conviction.

Ra's simply took the phone and held it to his ear. "You can certainly try, Detective." And with that, he hung up. "You will pay for that, child. Arif, you have an hour."

The man above Jason smiled cruelly and cracked his knuckles.

_Now_ Jason was truly afraid for his life, he shut his eyes tightly in preparation for what was to come.


	10. Ephemeral

**I am…. So evil… heh…. Let me know what you think in a review. I'm thinking only about another three or four chapters to go until the conclusion… maybe less depending on the homework load for the next couple of days… **

**Thanks so much!**

Chapter 10

Bruce heard it. He heard it when his heart dropped to the floor before springing up with a heat and fire that had so long been absent. In a whirl of emotion, he caught the sound of Jason hitting the floor. He caught the agonizing sound of his son being beaten, being torn into by some stranger.

But above it all he kept hearing those words. "_I'm scared_".

Some cord had been struck, and Bruce heard it snap apart – like a stick first twisted then broken in two and it was as audible as the mechanical dial tone echoing in his ear.

Bruce felt the white-hot and obliterating rage boil to the surface, the hate that swore Ra's would pay for this. In a swerve of movement his fist came down hard on the surface of the table before him. The metal there closed around his fist and Bruce let out a battle cry of frustration and anger. Tim and Dick and even Damian flinched harshly, but he couldn't pay them any mind right now.

He removed his hand from the table, chucked the phone as far away as possible. It didn't do anything to remove the taint the mechanism had inflicted, but it helped ease some of the pain away. He just kept hearing it, the jarring of his son's body hitting the floor. He could still hear the fist of some unknown tormentor attacking his son. He could hear it.

_I'm scared_

Bruce let out a ragged breath and swallowed hard. This was too much. Too much like the last. Too much like failing a second time to protect his boy.

That was what he was supposed to be, as Batman and as Bruce Wayne: a protector, a father that took care of and kept safe all those under his charge.

Failing that he was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

And the weight of that crushed him.

"Bruce?" His eldest asked, laying a tentative hand on his shoulder.

Bruce ignored him. "Did you get a trace?"

Tim stood from the Computer chair, worry and apprehension clear on his face. As a father, Bruce took a deep breath before repeating his question more civilly. Not calm, he could not be calm right now, but considerately.

"I know where he is. I was right, Jason is in Korea. I've forwarded the results to the jet, whenever you're ready, Bruce."

He nodded with a bit more ferocity than intended. Bruce turned up the cowl to cover his face, he would need the strength of the Dark Knight for this mission. He could only hope to temper the pain and paternalistic instinct with _His_ cool logic.

Batman turned and walked to the Batjet, turning only momentarily to bark at his three boys to follow.

…

He was in the dark again, only this time his body was hitting the razor sharp edge of endurance. Each wheeze of air caught him in the chest and brought the labored process to a standstill until he could gain control of the agony. It was like being trapped underwater and trying to breathe through the clear fluid – of course, this fluid was more of a crimson shade…

He could try to move – oh _gods_ – but it felt like knives being driven further under his skin. Twisting, turning, burying deep. Unable to breathe. And Jason shook, trembled with the nausea and pain, but he accepted both with open arms, more proof he had survived it – _hadn't he_? All delirium from fever had been forgotten long ago – or it seemed long ago.

He shuddered. Why was it so fucking _cold_?

_Oh right_. He was dying.

It felt like he was dying.

The darkness wasn't the familiar kind. It was the despair of being trapped in some godforsaken box…

Getting hard to think now. There has to be a way out. Some unforeseen latch, some mysterious weapon that would allow him to breathe…

_Come on, Jaybird._ Think.

But his mind was too fractured, every thought that passed did simply that: it passed. Each one was never coherent anyways, all just the broken musings of a broken boy. Another spike of pain left him gasping for air where there was none; his mind went blank again in a form of self-preservation.

In moments he could see flashes again. Flashes of some trauma from his past; the glint of an evil smile or the cold press of the floor on his sore muscles, it all whizzed by with nauseating speed. Then the earth, surrounding him on all sides…

Just like this box…

_Don't think about it, Jay._

This was a memory – but it wasn't. He could see being trapped here and trying to get out, he could see his broken and bloody hands scratching, slamming, prying into dead wood in a frenzied attempt at freedom. But this was different, this box was made of metal. Impossible to escape. _Impossible._ The word kept echoing uselessly. Jason had tried, he had made his play and shown his hand too soon in the game. Now he was trapped here.

He still couldn't breathe.

That was important, wasn't it? Air was essential, always had been right? No way would the laws of physics suspend that rule for him. Maybe they had, his heart was still slamming into his broken ribs after all. If he could just find a way to calm down…

His mind didn't respond though, as per the usual. He couldn't think beyond the claustrophobic panic that kept him wild and unfocused. His heart beat riotously, willing Jason to fight against this inescapable fate but… he'd lost the will when his nails had come out, when his knuckles had snapped, when his wrists had fractured.

Hell, he'd probably lost the will right before he'd even been put in the damned four-cornered hole. Arif had laid into him with a brutality that was too familiar, and the pain had echoed through his mind to a place much darker that the one he was in now. He cried out, but no sound escaped his lips. Where was his costume? Where were the Batarangs? Where was the utility belt? Had he been buried without all of it? Why would Bruce do that…

No, this is different. A different time, a different place. That didn't make sense, though. How was it that the situation seemed like a song left on repeat if it had never happened before?

Blood pumped from his wounds and left a stinging aftertaste in his head, one that pounded and ricocheted off his skull. _Too much pain. Too many memories swimming in my head_.

All of a sudden his mind had decided for him.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, sobbing weakly before curling in on himself as tightly as he could. He pressed his body against one side of the death-trap and pretended there was no other wall to hold him in. Jason shut his eyes, allowing the flood of agony, of hollow despair, of fearful isolation, let it all slip away as his eyes fell closed and he became dead to the world.


	11. Out

Chapter 11

Watching Bruce's outburst had been frightening. Dick had never seen the older man get so angry, so full of tempered rage. So when Bruce had motioned for them to get on the jet to find Jason, Dick had not taken even a moment's hesitance. Dick stretched in his seat on the jet in a long and graceful movement. The trip had only just begun and already the drag of the jet on their bodies was unbearable. Tim had only just settled down from his near-constant state of nervous fidgeting and Damian was sulking with arms crossed just next to Dick.

The boy released a barely stifled yawn. "Come here, D." Dick whispered, pulling the boy towards him and making room so that Damian could lie out fairly comfortably. The child made a few gripes of discontent, but all words were bellied by a well-placed expression of sleep. His black hair splayed across Dick's lap as the child hunkered down to sleep.

"I hope we find him." Damian said, his voice uncharacteristically devoid of arrogance.

"me too, D."

The boy's breathing settled for a relaxed pace and soon his eyes closed as well. The boy's training as an assassin required that he be able to fall asleep quickly, especially in times of stress – the more sleep you were able to catch, the better prepared you would be when you were attacked. Not _if_, when. Still, allowing himself to be held was a huge step. It displayed trust, something Damian was never comfortable with sharing unless blood connected them also.

"seems like Jason has affected even the Demon's behavior," Tim whispered.

"Can you honestly say that he hasn't affected you?"

"I'm saying that sooner or later Jason will be returned to normal and everything will go back to the way it was. Damian will be disappointed, I'll be back with the Titans, you'll go back to Bludhaven and Bruce will deal with it like he always deals with everything: quietly and in his own way." The words were detached and cold. Dick would have expected the words from Bruce, but not Tim.

Dick circled his arm around Damian to ensure that the boy would not fall, and then circled his other hand in the child's hair. "You'll have to understand why I can't think like that. I have to believe that there is still a way we can be a family."

"I'm not one for wishful thinking."

"I know. But I know you want this family to work as much as I do."

"I never said I didn't, Dick. I'm just saying that it's unlikely. There's no point in getting our hopes up only to be crushed later. Do you really think that it's a good idea?"

"I don't know Timmy."

"it doesn't matter." Both boys snapped around to stare at Bruce, who stared at them expectantly. "Jason is Jason. I owe it to him to try, for the boy he was and the man he will become. I think you owe it to him to."

Dick nodded, smiling in happy agreement. Tim sighed, eyes bored, yet bright in expectation.

"you're all too loud," Damian huffed from his makeshift bed.

With that, the plane fell into a companionable silence.

…

The long flight had been a living hell, not because of the plane itself, not the bumpy turbulence, not the casual cold of the air, it was because of the time. Bruce could swear he felt each and every second moving some wicked dagger deeper into his heart.

But when they landed, his sons waking up quietly behind him, Bruce had been all calm. Like crossing before the eye of the storm, his rage was contained; it had to be, the wall needed to be up while the cowl covered his face.

The mask acted as a sort of safety net. Certainly a safety net for his sanity, but also a restraining hand on the violent nature of a father afraid as hell of burying his son for a second time. The Bat stood upright, his back arched in perfect posture as he waited for the jet hanger door to release. The logical side of him treated Jason as anything – everything – else: expendable. The soldier. His counterpart ignored the Dark Knight, though. Bruce Wayne longed to see his son, to keep the boy safe.

His skin was cold, below zero, but inside he was boiling with barely-contained fury.

Each inch the door opened was an inch closer to Jason.

Finally, the hanger revealed the lithe and black-clad figure that Bruce could only recognize as Ra's. He stood with a bald, tall and muscular man to his right – the image of an obedient little dog.

With Dick and Tim to his right and Damian trailing behind on his left, Bruce strode out to meet them.

"You took my son from me." The rage was back, breaking through the wall so carefully constructed between Batman and Bruce Wayne. "I've come to take him back."

"Now, now, Detective. No need to be hasty." Ra's turned crystal grey eyes on Damian, "Not before my heir. Or at least… what _used_ to be my heir."

Damian, to his credit, kept his gaze steady. The boy pursed his lips and muttered a derisive "Tt", then he straightened his back in the perfect image of pride.

"Tim, take your brother inside the jet and stay there." His third eldest turned rapidly on him, Bruce cut him off. "I don't want him anywhere near Ra's." More quietly he added: "I will _not_ lose another boy."

Tim sighed in resignation, though he was clearly still deep in thought. "There's probably more we can do from the jet anyways. Come on, D."

The boy fidgeted, looking between his Father and Grandfather with obvious uncertainty and – because Bruce had gotten to know him – he recognized fear. Despite all the training and the apparently abrasive personality, Damian was still a lost boy waiting for direction. Bruce would give him that in the form of a family.

All they needed was Jason.

"where is my son." It wasn't a question so much as an accusation, asked directly after his two boys disappeared into the waiting Batjet.

"Why you've just sent him away, Detective."

Bruce ground his teeth, frustration and impatience building in his gut. "I'm not here to play games, Ra's. Tell me where Jason is."

"Oh Jason!" The old man gave a bark of laughter, evil full in the tone. "What did we do with him, Arif?"

The bald vassal smiled. It was a smile that reminded Batman too much of the Joker and made his skin crawl incessantly.

"You had me put him in a box sir, metal, so he couldn't get out." The man threw black, beady eyes in his direction. "No matter how much he cried out for his Daddy. Eventually he just went quiet. "

For the second time that day, Bruce broke. In the after effects he couldn't even recall moving, but the air still echoed with an audible snap. Inside his chest, Bruce felt the wall crumble. The age of despondency faded and he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to rebuild from the ashes.

In any case, Arif was on the ground now. The man's mouth was spurting blood at an alarming rate, but Bruce couldn't make himself care – no, that wasn't right. _Batman_ couldn't make _Bruce_ care. The Father had taken over now and he sent punch after punch at the man. He screamed out with a twist of hate and absolute conviction. His mind hurled at him images of burying Jason, of laying him down in the wooden box. It was his imagination that jumped to flashes of Jason in his coffin, waking up alone and so afraid. Waking up without his family.

Arms around him, pulling him up. Hushed words whispering for Batman to calm down, for Bruce to stop. Dick pulled him upright, keeping him under some control. His breath came in ragged, labored huffs. The cold stole each exhale in a storm of fog and the father brought his finger upward in an accusatory gesture. "Tell me where he is, Ra's."

"I'll tell you what, Detective. If you can defeat me in battle, You can have the boy. But fail… and not only will you leave this place, but your 'son' will come to know what true suffering is."

Two armored men brought a pair of swords out to greet them. Bruce took his without a moment's hesitation – this was it.

It was time to get his son back.

…

The sleep had done little good for his mind; he was still fractured and broken. He released a fragmented whimper. _Everything_ hurt. Movement, breathing, crying…

But the dark was more important, it was too dark. His hands felt like ice, his body shivered uncontrollably. The walls were too close, nothing had changed. Jason moved his hands to meet the cool metal above him. He made one valiant heave, expecting nothing, when – a sharp _click_ echoed in his mind.

The heavy metal frame swung outwards and all of a sudden he was flooded with light. Jason drew in a shaky and fearful breath, trying to fight past the waves of nausea as he tried to sit up.

Jason He coughed in pain, but he pressed on. He rocked momentarily between the metal, using his momentum to try and turn the hellish coffin on its side. His weight – as diminished as it was by starvation – was enough to topple it and thrust him from the crate. He landed in a pile on the floor, gasping for air and desperately clutching at his ribs in absolute agony…

But he was free. The light that touched his face was a comfort; it chased the demonic shadows from his mind and began to warm his battered body. In his peripheral he thought he was a lithe figure sauntering towards him, the cloudy image flashing from time to time. Fear forced his heartbeat to speed up, forced his body to flood with adrenaline to get his muscles working and endorphins to deal with the pain.

A warm voice in his mind whispered for him to be careful, to tread softly and wisely… a voice that belonged to his father. The voice brought him close to the edge, to the point where all he wanted – needed, really – was to go home. The anxiety over their separation was not affecting him as profoundly, but he still had a burning desire to reunite with his family. Dick and Bruce and Alfred…

But the other part was stronger it encouraged him with an outpouring of strength. _Jay, get up. You need to find a way out, escape. Before he can hurt you again. Get OUT._ This voice he recognized as his own, yet, again, it was older than himself. It was filled with a terror and agony that Jason had no choice but to heed it.

Spitting out both obscenities and blood, Jason managed organize himself and get his hand underneath him to push off from the floor. Now that his mind was more awake and his eyes clearer with necessity, Jason recognized his surroundings. It was the same room he had met Ra's in, all the lavish decorum still in-tact. _Fuck that bastard_, He growled internally. Finally reaching his feet, Jason searched the room for some escape route only for his eyes to fall upon an open window.

From his place in the corner of the room, Jason could just make out the stars of night and the glistening snow shimmering in the rays of light from the moon. The environment seemed to coax him towards it. The landscape would be cold, colder than he thought he could handle, but still it called to him. Jason looked down at himself to realize he wore only sweat pant and a matching t-shirt. When he had changed into them he had no idea.

The air filtered in, crisp and sweet, practically ringing with undertones of freedom. It was time to decide, Jason could stay and wait for his father, or he could run and hope Bruce was the detective his fragile mind recalled him as. Of course, if he ran his body would rebel – it was already broken in too many places to be of much use…

His mind did a quick checklist of his injuries, just like Bruce had taught him. Right broken wrist, two fingers splintered on left, probably four – ouch – _five_ broken ribs, the rest was superficial bruising and not-too-deep cuts.

_You can deal with the pain if you need to, Jay. Just get out of here_.

Jason closed his eyes, trying in vain to make himself think clearly. _What would Dad do? _He asked himself desperately.

He released a frustrated gust of air, took in a lung full of breath, and then stumbled towards the open window.


	12. Come and Get Me

**I hope this turned out as well as I think it did… heh… we'll see. I'm not very well oriented when it comes to writing Tim and Dick; I honestly haven't read many comics involving them, so I can only hope that this is at least marginally correct. In other words: don't kill me if you don't like their portrayals. ^^**

**Let me know in a review if you'd like to read more. 8D**

**Also: Thank you to all the wonderful people that have reviewed thus far, you've really helped keep me motivated to write! **

Chapter 12

He staggered through the woods with little more awareness than a blind dog. The trees rose in his path to trip him, the vines swept their fingers down to grasp his neck, and the snow sucked at each drop of blood that fell to it. He was frozen to the bone and delirium had once again set in. Jason could only barely make out the branches of the goddamned forest.

By now Jason was aware that another growth spurt was on its way. As it stood Jason estimated he was approximately eleven. It was strange. His awareness was limited, yet expanded. His limited memory told him that he had just become Robin, but it was like everything was so damned fresh. Like there were two tracks in his mind of the present and past. He recalled living on the streets after the deaths of his parents, but he also remembered being taken in by Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian at the _exact_ same instance like they overlapped... like all his memories were jumbled into a single stream-of-consciousness…

Then there were the flashes.

On top of everything else, when the delirium hit so did the phantasms. On the very edge of his peripheral he would catch glimpses of people, places, keepsakes… memories. He would see himself, older. That part of him would leave whispers of things that hadn't ever happened to him, like hearing a small piece of a conversation without any background detail to understand what you'd caught.

_Thoughts no good. Try focus. _

The voice tugged him away from the ragged thoughts. He did as it asked, focused intently on the snow-trodden ground before him. each step brought him deeper into the white haven, and with each step Jason could feel his eyes drooping. Fatigue and pain coursed through him, making each muscle hyperaware of the fabric rubbing against it uncomfortably.

And then he was on the ground.

His ribs burned and screamed in agony, seeming to clutch at his insides in a painful death grip. Jason contorted on the ground, flailing around in a vain attempt to make the process slow, to make it stop.

There in the snow, tired, delirious, and alone Jason cried. His tears did not disturb the new-fallen layer of white.

The change began regardless.

…

The sword followed a graceful arc as it swayed with its opponent. Like a dancer in the heat of the show, it was enthralled with the scent of fame and elegance. The aggressor moved two spaces forward, the defender two steps back. The assailant became the evader in the space of a few seconds, and then they traded places once again. The switch was almost imperceptible, but it happened with each exchange of blows.

The display was awe-inspiring, quick, and, above all, deadly. With each press Bruce made, he thought of Jason. With each step back in guard, he thought of Dick, Tim, and Damian. The aegis of the Bat symbol was torn to shreds across his bloodied chest, but the enemy was faring worse.

Ra's lowered his sword in obvious exhaustion. The Dark Knight did not allow any such signs of physical weakness to show through.

"Give it up, Ra's. You can't win." Dick spoke, though his voice did not distract either fighter's attention.

"Is that so?" the enemy breathed out.

He took his chance; Bruce brought the blade forward with imperceptible speed.

Ra's widened his eyes, the blade impaled him.

"You lose," Bruce hissed, anger seething out of him. "Now tell me where Jason is."

The Snake gasped out a painful laugh, shaking blood out of his system as Bruce withdrew the sword. The man would be healed in the Lazarus Pit, he would live.

Jason didn't have that luxury.

The same men that had brought the swords now came forward, taking their master's arms and drawing them over their shoulders. "Arif, guide the Detective to his boy. He has won this battle."

Arif bowed reverently before waving for Bruce and Dick to follow him.

…

Tim's fingers flew over the little keys with little thought behind each stroke. The consistent click-click of each button was the only filter for the devastating silence. Damian sat only a few feet away, idly flipping through classical songs on his music player. The boy's face seemed frozen in an angry, depressant façade as he attempted, as Tim was, to forget what was happening outside of the jet.

The moment the two brothers had entered the aircraft, both had been wary and on-edge. Damian had been frustrated. The boy immediately went about changing out of his Robin attire and into more comfortable ware, ripping out the com-link that connected the family first and foremost. Tim, on the other hand, had opted for the less drastic course. Red Robin instead chose to sit patiently in waiting.

Then, even that had degenerated.

Tim Drake-Wayne was not one to twiddle his thumbs while his team – his family, really – ran off into battle.

_So… files,_ His thoughts reminded him.

As if by magic, the coding on screen for the command prompt that he had been working for the past half hour broke open. Like a thousand books being laid out before him, Ra's Al Ghul's security system became yet another tool for Tim to utilize. The cameras, files, and maps became accessible, literally at his fingertips.

"nice try, Ra's, but you'll have to be a bit more clever next time." Tim said, triumph ringing in his tone.

"I see you've finally managed to crack the system. What do we do now?" The teen's head whipped around to see Damian standing just behind him, a stern, curious expression written on his face.

Tim smiled. N_ot so indifferent after all, huh?_ "Now… We see what Ra's has been up to. Maybe leave a couple of nasty viruses on his system that will get progressively worse and take his support teams _weeks_ to get rid of."

The boy looked unimpressed, he huffed out an annoyed "Tt" before moving to stand by Tim's other side to get a clearer view. "That's child's play."

"You would know, Demon."

Damian fixed a cold glare on Tim's temple, as Red Robin continued to click away at the keyboard. "I think… this will… allow us to see the security footage," Tim whispered. The young man switched intermittently to focusing on Damian and the computer before him.

"Do you think… That is, would it be pragmatic for Jason to be on the footage?"

The tap of the buttons stopped abruptly and Tim turned to the boy. Damian seemed somewhat lost in thought, though his chin was pressed forward in an infantile display of arrogance. Tim weighed his options before responding, "Yes. Our wayward bird should be on here."

"We should view these videos."

"Perhaps. But I don't think Bruce would approve," Tim said logically.

"Just like Pennyworth certainly wouldn't approve of all the fast food you sneak in after not eating the dinner he prepares?"

_Damn. The kid had him there. _"Alright, you bilious little brat. Let's see what we've got, then report it to Bruce."

The child grinned conceitedly. "I thought you'd see it my way."

"Don't push it, kid. Don't think I haven't caught you sneaking your throwing knives out of the Cave. Bruce would kill you for that!"

"True, but Father doesn't really expect much from me, I am only ten after all. You, on the other hand, wouldn't want to injure the Butler's feelings."

_Damn again. _

"Brat."

"Mountebank."

Tim raised his eyebrow at the boy's unusual word choice. Their little game of persiflage had gone on long enough, though. Shaking his head, the young man turned his attention back to the computer and back to Jason.

…

The cool air assaulted his senses, just as the casual flare of opulence shocked his eyes.

Just as his eyes were drawn to the scattered evidence of abuse. The bloodstains, the barely-there scuffs in the carpet, and the overturned coffin-like box in the corner.

Two men stood in the room already, seeming absorbed in their search for something – some_one._ Dick narrowed his eyes, leveled his shoulders and pushed the man, Arif, out of the way.

"Who are you people?" He asked, voice resounding with confidence.

Before even a thought could pass through his head, Bruce had slammed one of the two into the far wall. His Father held the henchman by the neck, while the man writhed in discomfort. "What were you doing here and where is my son?" Bruce growled.

"we-we were supposed to grab him – take him away before you got here…" The man chocked as Bruce's grip tightened. "He wasn't here! The box was empty!"

Air filled his lungs in a gust, the breath sharp and disturbed. "You put him…" Dick let out a disgusted snort.

Bruce once again raised the man before slamming him into the brick of the wall. "Let me get this straight, you _beat_ my son, and then you _put him in a coffin_ that he didn't stand a chance of escaping?" the words came out as barely a whisper, a whisper full of absolute conviction.

By now the pig was gulping and sputtering, but it was his counterpart that saved him. "Not us, Arif. And besides that, the kid was out before we even got here-"

"Where did he go?" Dick asked, struggling to find strength in his voice.

The man nodded towards an open window. "We found bloodstains leading outside. Before you start beating us up, I'd like to remind you that your kid is out there probably freezing to death."

Dick considered it, shrugged nonchalantly, and then broke Arif's jaw. The punch was well aimed and struck the mandible in just the right position to be excruciatingly more painful than a simple broken jaw. The older brother in him practically cheered at the beautiful wet snap the bone made on impact. "That was for my little brother, asshole."

When he returned his attention to Bruce, the older man had already dealt some serious blows to the other two.

As the eyes of both father and son met, a single message passed between them. Both sets of eyes glinted with need, a need to find and save Jason from further pain and suffering.

The com-link that connected the family buzzed, leaving the two to shake off lingering anger to answer the call. "_Red Robin to Nightwing_."

"I hear you, Tim."

"_Good, cause I'm not planning on repeating myself – I've hacked into the Al Ghul system mainframe. There's some… some pretty disturbing footage on here of experimentation… tests run on Jason. I've also gathered extensive evidence of abuse…"_

Dick took a moment to glance at Bruce. The older man's jaw tightened visibly and his posture grew more tense. "Go on, Timmy."

The boy took a deep breath, "_It looks like they… well, Jason had enough. He managed to escape – the footage was diluted, I'm not sure _how_ exactly, but it's confirmed. He left out the northeast window headed towards the mountains. You and Bruce need to find him. From what I could see, he was in pretty bad shape and wasn't exactly dressed for extreme weather conditions. He… um" _Tim paused briefly, collecting his thoughts as he often did. "_He's having particle accelerations, painful ones, and may be disoriented or weakened when you find him. Use caution."_

"Particle accelerations?"

"_Growth spurts_."

Dick nodded, though the other boy couldn't see it. "Got it, Nightwing out."

"_Father?"_

Bruce seemed to shake himself, awakening from some far-off place. "Damian?"

"_Be… be smart. Don't get yourself into a situation that requires my involvement."_

The older man cracked a smile – or what could pass for a smile, in Bruce's terms. "I will stay safe, Damian, and I will bring Jason home. I promise."

The link cut out and Nightwing and Batman were left to the solitude of one another's company. Then they were in movement, in perfect synchronization which only a member of the Bat clan could achieve.

…

"Batman?" The words echoed callously in the darkness, _his_ image refracting before the teen's eyes. The Bat turned, though he was still so shrouded in shadows. The tips of the cowl glinted maniacally and there was something ghoulish about the apparition.

Jason's heart started to pound, picking up tempo in tune with some unheard beat.

Strong arms hefted him from the ground, pulling his too-numb body away. Jason struggled, but no muscle seemed to work save one…

"Bruce!?"

The arms still held him, dragging him across the ground. His back scraped against the concrete, red tattered pieces of his uniform streamed out before him. The fear rose, threatening to choke him. The panic was next. As though made of lead, none of his limbs were responding. He turned once more to Bruce, his desperation evident and his need absolute.

"DAD!"

A smile appeared of the figure's face. A sadistic grin, a devilish eye. And the thing was not really his father at all.

_Joker_

The bat symbol gleaned in the dim light as the thing approached, waving a crowbar high, high in the air before – crushing, breaking, _agony_. And – oh _god_ – the light was gone, it flickered, then it was extinguished. It was all Jason could do; he wondered when his life would be deracinated.

The flicker, going on-and-off constantly, Jason thought, it coincided with his own brief existence: Always flickering, never quite bright enough to make a difference.

_But dim enough to make a spark, kid. That's all it takes._

It didn't matter, though.

He was still overwhelmed and alone.

He probably always would be.

And the finality of it broke him.


	13. To Cry Wolf

**Yes, I realize this is an incredibly short chapter. I decided to break this one up into two part rather than a conglomeration of angst-ridden writing. Two chapters left…**

**Thanks to all those that reviewed!**

Chapter 13

The abyss of white shadow was deafening with little differentiating one space of colorless ground from another. Nonetheless, the crunch of the snow underfoot was satisfying; each step brought them infinitely closer to finding Jason.

Bruce barely noticed the cold of the mountain breeze, even as his reinforced winter cape billowed out behind him carelessly. He watched the horizon closely for any sign of the little bird, to little avail. The echo of the wind was hollow and deadened, but above it all Bruce heard a singular harmony of sound that made his heart sink in horror.

The cacophony of wolves on the trail of prey.

"_Bruce, we need to hurry up. Do you hear them? The wolves have literally descended._" Dick's voice blasted the paralysis of fear away and reminded him of the imminence of the situation.

"I'm aware of that, Dick. Keep looking on the south side, then we'll circle back and comb through the forest."

"_Got it._"

Bruce sighed, a deep resigned sound that filled the air. His feet continued to glide over the powdery earth mechanically, his eyes darted every which way in deliberate search of his son.

It was the drastic contrast of crimson on white that finally caught his attention and drew him nearer.

Blood, it dotted a harsh trail along the forest floor. Bruce didn't know whether he wanted to cry out in anger at his son's obvious injury or rejoice at some sign of the boy.

He decided on the latter, as he made his way through the branches to further investigate. It looked like Jason had dragged himself from this point on. It left a clear path for him to follow.

That was when he saw it, the bundle of limbs staggering off in the distance. And Bruce ran his pace matching the harsh pulse of his heart.

"Jason!"

His hand fell forward in an open gesture, reaching towards his son as the boy drew closer. Jason turned to look at his father, but little recognition shone there. Bruce was surprised to see that he was older now; Jason looked like he had when… When Joker had murdered him. Sixteen.

"Son!"

The boy lifted his hand with noticeable effort, trying to grasp Bruce's glove-clad one.

And then the ground fell out beneath them.

It began to snow.

…

He wasn't sure how far or for how long he had crawled, in all honesty Jason was only sure of the fact that his insides were still screaming in agony. But he pressed on, like the soldier he was… or the son? To which father? Willis…Or Bruce?

He shook himself, _Not now, Jay._

In his mind's eye he was still crawling towards the door – the only visible route for escape – even as the concrete scraped his arms and legs.

In reality, he crawled forward in a straight and bloody line across ceaseless, biting cold.

Jason grunted at the exertion, pressing on even after he had reached his breaking point. He could still hear the echoing laughter, still flinched at the sound of metal striking ground.

"_Little Bird! I'm not quite done yet… maybe we could play on for a few more hours… No? Maybe a few more swings of the crowbar!" _The maniacal cackle came again. It forced a shiver to run through him and the cool sweat of delirium to trickle down his forehead.

He'd never felt an insane terror this intense before – the overwhelming sensation of helplessness.

"_Jason_?"

Too far. The door wouldn't budge.

"_Jason_!?"

Too late. He slid to the floor.

"Jason!"

Too much. The agony, his form deflated in silent resignation.

"Son!"

A hand reached out to him, trying to catch him, to keep him safe. Jason knew better, even though he reflexively returned the gesture.

He saw, more than felt, the explosion. It tore through him with momentary blissful awareness. The brightness shone like a star in the night sky. _yeah, like touching a goddamned nova_.

But a star would be warm. An explosion would be white-hot and obliterating.

And Jason was cold.

So cold, that when he finally opened his eyes – when had they closed? – he saw the snow engulfing him, he realized what the sensation _really_ was.

He was falling into a pure white tomb.


	14. It is Only Winter

**Heh… so… the impromptu hiatus is at its end at last… as a special gift (peace offering) here's a semi-long chapter with a cherry at the end! **

**Thanks for the patience, readers! I will have lengths of Depravity updated soon enough as well. Hopefully by the end of tomorrow or maybe tonight…. We'll see. **

**As always, read, enjoy, and review!**

Chapter 14

The darkness enfolded him like a fresh blanket, as did the freezing temperature. He instinctively reached for his com-link to call for Dick, only to find that it was only a bundle of damages wires now. His landing must have jostled it into the wrong position. They were on their own.

Bruce's eyes eased open alongside his growing awareness. He was glad for the sunlight laying tendrils of brightness across the cavernous area.

Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to spot the crumpled form of his son.

It was the Jason from his memory that lay there. The one that Bruce had let die, the young sixteen-year-old that had become his child.

The ground beneath their feet had collapsed downwards to form a small, closed in cave. The ground below was solid rock and ice-frozen. The boy had his head propped up on a small rock, one that had apparently cracked his head – blood covered the stones. Bruce could only wonder about how much of that was from the fall, and how much was from Ra's. Either way, the billionaire began to struggle wildly. He pushed and shoved the snow-laden rocks from his legs, brushed away the icy formations and then struggled towards Jason.

"Hey, you with me?" He asked once he had made his approach. He touched the boy's shoulder lightly at first, wary of any bruising. "Jason?"

The teen's eyes flew open, the teal brightness shining brightly with resilience and intuition. Slowly those orbs scanned the cave, eventually landing on Bruce.

"Wha- What happened?" He whispered groggily, seeming to have trouble thinking clearly.

"We fell."

The boy let out a hoarse laugh, grimacing only slightly in obvious pain. "No shit, Sherlock. I mean, how did we get away from the Joker? How am I…"

"Alive? The Joker was a long time ago, Jason. Your memories have been distorted by a chemical altering agent that combines the protein samples and apparently altered your long term potentiation.."

"agh, no." He said, waving his hands in a frantic 'stop' gesture. "alright, run that by me again. In English. Street kid English."

"Ra's used a de-aging serum on you and now you're memories are distorted."

"ahh. That's wasn't so hard," he said. Still, the boy swayed a bit, faltering at the weight of his wounds. Looking at him now, Bruce could see dozens of bruises and cuts covering his arms.

"Do you remember getting those?"

Jason's eyelids were beginning to droop, steadily sinking into Bruce's arms. It was at thi moment that Bruce fully realized how cold the boy was, how stiff he felt to the touch… and the total _lack_ of shivering to make up the body temperature.

The father deep inside him cried out in horror, fear taking its hold immediately. But he was Batman right now, he had to take charge and stay level-headed if they were going to survive this.

With that in mind, he brought Jason closer to him, wrapping his cape around the boy and shaking his shoulders to build up friction and warmth. "Stay with me, Buddy. Tell me what you remember."

His son opened his eyes slowly, not fully aware of his surroundings, "Iunno, the de-aging thing makes sense though… is like a bunch of memories are swimmin' in my head an' I can't begin ta' decipher of it all. I-" he took a slow, labored breath. The temperature slowly rising in his body, "I remember being in a box…"

Bruce recoiled at that, as though someone had physically hit him. The coffin. His mind had often tormented him with images and wanderings about what it had been like for his son, but the two had never gotten the chance to talk about it… but now, seeing the absolute terror on Jason's face, the lost, hopeless expression… It told him that what his mind had conjured had fallen short of reality.

He held the boy tighter and prayed that the tracking device lodged in his utility built would lead his boys to them.

…

"Tim? You there?"

"I read you, what happened out there, Dick?"

"Is Father with you?" Damian cut in shrilly over the com-link.

"No. His signal cut out like a light just a little while ago. He's not responding to any of my calls, something's wrong. I can feel it. I need you to trace where he is," Dick responded sincerely.

Dick could just make out the frantic clicking of keys that signaled his brother's diligence. The brothers stood in anxious patience as Tim continued. until-

"Got it. I'm forwarding you the details now, you'll have to follow it as best you can, but be careful. If you lose connection for any reason, you'll lose the coordinates."

"Thanks, Timmy."

"and Dick?"

"yeah?"

"don't be an idget. Keep yourself safe. Damian and I will be no use saving all _three _of you."

Dick smiled at that, nodding as though Tim were standing directly before him. "You two sit tight. If Bruce is in trouble like I think he is I may need you and the jet. Be ready. Nightwing out." With that, Dick cut off communications with his brothers, lifted his GPS with the coordinates and began to tread the long path towards Bruce and hopefully Jason.

…

Bruce dragged himself towards the wall, keeping Jason close to his chest. The cape could really only help if there was enough heat to keep in… something Jason was sorely lacking at the moment. As it was, and to Bruce's utter jubilance, the boy had begun to shiver, showing that he had indeed regained enough energy to expend.

The only downside was that the boy had regained enough energy to talk.

He had been mumbling on for close to thirty minutes.

"am I dying?"

"No, Jason. We're just trapped. Dick is coming to get us out."

"Are _you_ dying?"

"No."

"Why aren't we dying at the manor with Alfred?"

"We're not even in America."

"Oh."

Bruce rolled his eyes; the boy was clearly still out of it. He talked with his eyes closed, pausing slightly when a set of tremors took over. "You need to conserve your energy," Bruce said quietly, as though he were speaking to a small child – and perhaps he was.

"You…" he took a deep breath as he shook, then continued, "You know me well enough to know that talking helps me stay…" he paused again, "c-calm."

And just like that Bruce wasn't in the cavern anymore. Suddenly he was back in Gotham, holding a very sick, very delusional Robin.

…

Bruce could see the boy clearly, could see the color drain from the little Robin's face as easily as he could see the bat symbol in the sky. More importantly, Bruce could see the gauntleted hands of Mr. Fries, slowly squeezing the life out of Jason.

"Robin!" He cried, gaining the attention of the villain first, as he had expected. The king of Ice released the boy quickly, matching his full prowess against that of the Dark Knight's.

"So good of you to join us, Batman. You're just in time to watch him die." Victor said, a smile forming on his frozen lips.

The boy was not moving.

The Bat itemized this fact, but refused to process it fully until the villain was safely apprehended. He slid into a battle position mirroring his enemy and taking out a few batarangs, he was prepared. However, It was only once they were in motion that Bruce, in a completely separate, yet parallel manner analyzed his son's condition.

Right hook

_He looks pale, still unmoving._

Sidestep, allow to feign attack, then left hook.

_There! A slight movement of the chest, Jason was alive. _

One more, just close enough…

_But for how long? _

Panic and adrenaline mixed in his body as the infamous fight-or-flight response was triggered for the second time that night. It gave him the added boost of speed and strength to pull his last maneuver off; the stinging blow cut through the ice-glass armor, causing only nominal injuries to Bruce's hand.

_I need to be with him._

And then, like a blackout that led to some chimerical ending, Jason was in his arms. The boy was far too cold for comfort, and Bruce – he was Bruce now, the Bat all but banished to his darkest recesses – well, Bruce was both relieved and terrified to have Jason.

His naturally pale complexion was intensified with the bluish reflection of the icy tomb, and the purpling color of newly forming bruises. His body was alight with a chill of insidious nature and he was trembling slightly, like he didn't have the energy to keep up his own body temperature. The Dark Knight recognized the signs of hypothermia in advanced stages, Bruce only saw with horror his son dying.

_It is still reversible. Calm yourself._

Bruce listed the child from the ground, holding him close before moving to leave the accursed place. "You'll be all right, son. You'll be all right."

…

"Bruce?" Jason asked, slowly and without any of the formal zeal from earlier.

The older man awakened from his reverie with the simple call easily, focusing his focus and energy on the here-and-now. "I'm here."

The boy closed his eyes slowly, taking a gulp of air with him. "I'm going to die here, aren't I?" He asked soberly.

The father in him felt the knife twist in his heart. He held Jason tightly to him, shaking his arms quickly to return some warmth. "no. I won't let that happen."

A laugh rumbled through him, but it was sickly and twisted in the air horribly. "You've been wrong before, Dad."

"Not this time."

"trying out your false hope on me again, huh?"

"it's not false."

The boy laughed again, slowly and painfully. "Why don't you just let me go? It's be a hell of a lot easier on you. At least you'll have a chance…"

Looking at him now, Bruce finally arrived at his conclusion. Jason had not changed. Not at all. His ambitions were the same; childlike in nature and fragile in form. Even now they were recognizable, the same as any. He wanted to be loved, to have family. It was all that the boy needed. Yet he was still putting himself at the bottom, like he could never be the center of it. He was still putting everyone else's safety first, before his own.

Bruce sighed heavily, like a weight was pulling him down. "You'll be all right, son. You'll be all right."

It was enough, Jason settled down and closed his eyes in silent trust that he would wake up again. But Bruce remained vigilant; after all, this was his son.


	15. A Snowy Prison

**Ummm… right…. So, this update is exceedingly late and I'm terrible with deadlines… ^^" Yeah so… please don't kill me! **

**This one is a little longer than the updates I have been posting. Hopefully it is up to standards… Read and review please!**

Chapter 15

The heavy weight in his arms shifted, drawing closer to him and the cape he had provided. They had not spoken in over and hour (his circadian rhythm had been thrown off, he couldn't be sure…) and Jason had developed some sort of fast-acting fever that quickly enveloped his teenaged body. Again, the father inside him planted the seed of worry that just never seemed to stop growing. Thankfully, the simple phrase Bruce had uttered earlier had sent his son off to sleep, restless as it was.

But now Jason was stirring again to wakefulness. His eyes opened slowly on the world, like a newborn's tremulous first breath. Jason's teal eyes held a tremor of fear, an abundance of uncertainty, and more than enough delirium to mask the two for any untrained eye.

But Bruce saw it.

Jason took a moment to recognize his surroundings, yet the disorientation remained when he opened his mouth to speak some strange _non sequiter_ _,_ "I remember my dad."

"I'm here Jason, go back to sleep," He replied tiredly.

"No… my biological dad," He said, just as exhaustedly. "I… I feel the next one coming on. Probably won't make it…." His voice just got weaker as he mumbled on, trailing off as he spoke. Bruce started at the boy's words nonetheless, his heart twisting in terror; a terror beyond words even for the eloquent billionaire.

"You'll be fine. I'm here." Led by instinct, Bruce rested his palm on the boys hair. He ran his fingers through the grim-encrusted locks easily and in a soothing gesture.

"I remember this one time… The Old Man came home, drunk out of his fuckin' mind…" Jason paused. He drew a breath into his lungs and closed his eyes, unwilling to waste energy on their operation. "Beat the shit outta me. Didn't stop till my arm was broken and I was all bloody on the floor." Jason laughed humorlessly, still with his eyes closed.

Bruce pulled his son close, holding him like his life depended on it. Maybe it did, judging by the swelling somewhere deep in his chest. "No more, Jason. You don't need to think about that right now, save your strength," He whispered.

Jason continued despite his words. "My Mom used to hold me like you do." He laughed again, "I should have learned early on that blood doesn't make family. Catherine Todd was my _real_ Mom. And you… you were always my Dad… Just too damned pig-headed to say it…"

The boy's face suddenly contorted with pain, taking a fistful of the cape in a white-knuckle grip. Before his eyes, the boy began to change. Bones snapped in and out of place; skin grew tight, then loose. And Jason screamed in agony of it. The sight left Bruce absolutely horrified and clinging to the child he had raised, trying in vain to will the pain out of his son's whittled frame.

Bruce didn't think he had ever really heard the sound erupting from Jason's lungs before, but he suspected that the boy had gone through this transition more than once. Alone.

In all honesty it made him wish he had beaten Ra's into oblivion.

Before him the boy began to convulse and grow; muscles wrapped his form and his body became that of a man's. Jason was once again becoming Jason Todd. His youthful appearance wrapped itself into the history of pain and inner turmoil, the harsh set of his features regaining their hold. The young man let out one final cry, twisting and popping one last bone into proper joint, and Jason was done growing.

And he was out cold in Bruce's trembling arms.

…

It came to be that Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy philanthropist, was holding the very still, very cold body of Jason Todd. After the transformation left his body sapped of energy and willpower, Jason had gone limp; now it was Bruce's duty to keep his son warm when his body could not.

_At least he is breathing_…

His mind whispered, keeping him on his toes and making him want to knock on wood.

_He'll be all right. He's my son, he'll be fine._

Just as the words had processed, the young man began to stir; barely at first, but with more force as his eyes lit up with awareness. He struggled for a moment, not seeming to understand his circumstance.

"I'm here, I've got you." Bruce said aloud, tightening his grip.

Jason stared at his father for a few moments without recognition. His eyes were clouded with some other thought, something Bruce just couldn't quite see. He wondered if this was how it would have been if Bruce had been the one to find Jason after his reawakening…

"what day is it?"

"the twenty-forth. How do you feel?"

"like a shit-ton of bricks just rammed into my body right before I was blown through a blizzard. Other than that, I'm fine." He said, trying in vain to sit up.

"stay still, you're in no condition to be moving around."

"why are you here, Bruce?" He asked groggily. "why not just leave me with our old pal Ra's?"

"Do you want me to leave you here?" Bruce responded, looking into his son's eyes completely.

"No."

"Then that's why I didn't."

Jason closed his eyes, processing the information silently. Suddenly he smiled, opening his eyes with a glitter of mischief. "Nothing like a bit of family bonding, huh?"

Bruce smiled, but offered no response. The young man settled back and quieted down but Bruce could already tell that it was going to be a long night.

…

"Bruce?" He asked, shivering only slightly now, but still in the throes of sickness and recovery.

"Yes?" the man answered, though his tone told the young man that he had been keeping his father up for hours.

Jason continued anyways, "If I were just some kid that had stolen drugs on the street to get by, would you still have picked me up?"

The older man sighed exhaustedly. "that's not what happened."

"I know, but what would you have done?"

"I don't know, Jason. Try to get some sleep."

The younger man swallowed audibly and closed his bleary eyes. Silence fell upon them for a moment then, "How's Al doing?"

"He's fine, Jason."

"What about Babs?"

"She's fine."

"oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jason shifted and opened his eyes, looking directly into the closed-off face of Bruce Wayne. Not Batman, but the father-figure for him. "You took me in, Bruce. After I was changed into a fuckin' kid." It was a statement, but the upwards inflection made it sound like a question.

"I did," he replied simply.

"But you could have just left me there."

"I didn't."

"But you could have."

Bruce's eyes shot open and his face turned away from Jason to search the landscape without purpose. "I didn't leave you Jason. I haven't left you. I _Won't _leave you. So please, go to sleep and reserve your energy. I'll still be here when you wake up. I promise."

Jason closed his eyes tightly against some unknowable force before relaxing slightly. When he spoke it was quietly and with direct purpose. "Never make promises you can't keep, Dad."

…

Dick turned around in the snow. He looked this way and that but still saw nothing but endless boundaries of white. He scratched his head in bewilderment and looked again at the programed coordinates of his Father and Brother. The wind and the snow whipped all around him and he was glad of the added warmth of his upgraded costume – built for winter storms. What he wasn't appreciative of was the fact that his visibility was next to nothing.

He'd be the first to admit that he was completely confused.

"uh… Tim?" He said into the communicator.

"Yeah Dick? Did you find them? Is Jason all right?"

"uh… about that… I'm standing directly on the spot where these coordinates say they are… And they are not here."

There was silence on the other line. It was interrupted moments later when Dick made out the solitary sound of the clicking on a keyboard. "My scans say that the three of you are standing right next to each other… I don't understand…"

"Well, I'm standing here in the middle of a damned blizzard and they are _not here._" Dick said, pulling his winter outfit closer to him. Dick took one more glance at his surroundings only to pause when he heard an unmistakable sound: the moving of snow to make room for a foot. In this case, a paw.

Above the roar of wind Dick made out the hungry cry of a wolf. When one danced before his vision, he made out the features of the Tibetan wolf; the noticeably shorter legs, the broad head, the smaller stature, and the in-turned jaw. The wolf he saw carried a black, aggressive coat. The creature looked at him with hostility and, more prominently, hunger.

"Hey Tim? I'm gonna havta call you back, little bro. I've got a bit of a dog-eat-dog problem."

**Please review!**


	16. Rebirth

**Coming soon: more of these chapters. Hopefully. ^^" please leave reviews, I just have no motivation to write this on top of all my other work… I thank all those that have left them so far! **

Chapter 16

The wolf released a howl, a low and guttural wail that seemed to reach the heavens before winding back down to earth. The creature's eyes were a beautiful blue, seeming to match perfectly the dark night sky. The creature stared into his eyes. Dick stared back. The animal did not approach, though it seemed eager to. It was as if there was some force holding him away. The wolf put its nuzzle to the ground, sniffing tentatively. The hunger and aggression from before had all but vanished and the animal looked back into Dick's eyes with head cocked to the side.

That's when Dick saw it.

He'd been trained by Bruce to look for it. If not for the wind and sleet he would have spotted it so much earlier.

The upturned ground, the strange formation of the snow, the rock standing on edge…

It all clicked for him. his mind lit up happily and Dick practically jumped at the sudden epiphany.

A _cave-in_. that's why the coordinates seemed right on top of each other. _That's_ where Bruce and Jason were. Right under his feet.

A smile lit his face. He turned his attention back to the dark wolf, only to find that the creature was gone. The wind mimicked the howl of the lone creature, making Dick wonder if the wolf had been there at all. In any case, he crouched close to the ground and lay his fingers to the cold snow.

"hold on guys… help is on the way."

…

"Ice."

"how'd you guess?"

"There are no other words that begin with 'I' that can be seen in the area," Bruce said tiredly. His tone told Jason that they had been at this for hours, or at least what felt like hours.

"Damn. Got me there, Big Guy." A silence fell between them at the mention of Jason's old nickname for Bruce.

"I remember the first time you called me that," He said. He grinned the fond memory.

"The first time I took on the name 'Robin' I gave you the name 'Big Guy,' it's how the world works," Jason said somewhat sadly. Again, the silence descended. Then; "I don't know if it's any consolation, but if I'd had a choice in the matter, I would have chosen to stay dead."

Bruce started at this, a jolt that Jason could feel through his father's arms. The air became heavier and neither one of them spoke. They could just barely make out the howl of a wolf, blunted through the walls of snow and ice and rock but there nonetheless.

Bruce took in a long lung-full of air before speaking. "I want you to live, Jason. Just not the way you have been… You're so full of hate and a drive to avenge the wrongs set against you… You never realized that the door to the manor has been open to you. I have never wanted you dead, Jason. I've wanted you _home_."

For some reason that not even Jason could fathom, the boy grew angry. "To keep me under lock and key. To stop me from doing my damned job! To-"

"to protect you." Bruce interrupted.

"Like you did when the Joker Killed me and my mother?" It was a low blow. Jason visibly saw as well as felt the flinch that went through his father-figure.

When Bruce spoke it was through a fog of sadness that rippled through the boy's heart. "You died because I _wasn't_ _there_. Not for lack of trying. And now you run through the city with reckless abandon, never considering that you could be shot or maimed."

"Oh I consider it, Bruce. But I'm reckless, not unsafe. There's a difference," Jason said, the headstrong arrogance from earlier returned with a force.

"There is no difference, Jason. Don't you understand you could lose this second chance at life?"

"I'm willing to risk it," Jason said, though his eyes were averted.

"I'm not!" Bruce startled him with his tone, stern and angry. "after this is over… come home with us."

"I'm leaving as soon as I am able, Bruce."

"I know." His father sighed, but when he continued there was desperation in his voice. "I just need to know that you will come back, even if it's just once in a while. Reassure an old man that his son is doing all right. That his son is alive and OK." Bruce paused and the two men stared at each other for a moment. Another deep breath and Bruce let out the words he'd been meaning to say since the first time Jason had shown himself again. "I worry about you. Whether you eat enough, whether you're hurt, whether you're alone…"

"I'll think about it," Jason interrupted. It was more than his son had ever given Bruce before, so the older man settled for it.

A loud cracking sound erupted from the ceiling. It was quickly followed by the droplets of rock that signaled a break. Then a sound reached their ears and – although Jason would never admit it – both men were glad to hear the sing-song voice of Dick Grayson. "Hey! You guys down there?"

And Jason laughed aloud, the melody lifting into the air like a wisp of smoke. Bruce smiled at the sound, and at his first son for their fateful rescue. Fire seemed to rain down on them as the light of day reached their faces and like a bird rising into the air for flight, so too did the hopes of both father and son.


	17. Sweet Nightmares

**Ha ha… so… late update. ^^ it's a long, good chapter though so hopefully you guys won't devour my soul in revenge… hee…. Anyways, this chapter is mainly a "settling in" chapter for Jason and the family. The next one should include more in-depth views of the other bat sibs, but we shall see. Let me know in a review how I'm doing with Alfred… it was shockingly difficult for me to write. First part may seem confusing, just keep reading. ^^"**

**Anywho, on with the story.**

Chapter 17

"_dad?" the sound carried into the red-and-black sky with a tone of a grieving child, like a horrifying prophecy of the past. It was a child, a child in between life and death, hope and despair. "Daddy?" Another one, younger now. "Bruce?" A teen. "You Bastard! You said you'd never leave me!" The adult, angry and so, so afraid all the same. _

_Maniacal laughter fell through the air like a dying bird, it slapped the ground and ricocheted around the group. _

"_Are you frightened, little boy? Well, Uncle Jay is here!" _

_Every one of them, young to old, shivered at the voice memories of nightmares, memories of a crowbar; of the boogieman under the bed… it massed into the form before them now – the Joker. _

_The youngest Jason began to cry followed quickly by the second. The teen set on his face a look of grim determination and bravery despite the terror that widened his eyes. The adult… he stood very still – the eldest had been reduced to paralyzing fear and hate._

"_No," the eldest whispered despairingly. The old fear stirred in him and Jason watched as one by one the other Jasons fell before the Joker. Each one of the evaporated to dust as the Joker stepped closer and closer. For whatever reason, he could not move or speak after that. The man that stole his first life stood nose-to-nose with him. The putrid breath matched perfectly with the noisome odor from his memory. _

_And all of a sudden he was on the ground with a metal thing – a _crowbar_ – slammed down on his hand. To his surprise the hand began to disintegrate into dust, just like his counterparts before him. The idea inflated in his chest like a balloon ready to burst, it destroyed him._

_I can't fade away again… _

_No one will remember that I did good…_

_I don't want to die again…_

_Tears blurred the young man's vision like the fear thwarted his ability to think beyond the panic. The Joker's face contorted with more laughter and the sound attacked Jason's ears like a canon booming far too close to him. _

"_Dad!" He screamed. _

_But the next blow never came. When Jason took up the courage to look at his tormentor it was Bruce. The man was standing stoically in place as though he were a statue gazing down at Jason. _

_The fear in him sank, changed, and then, like the current, resurfaced as something different: shame. _

"_Don't ever think to call yourself my child." The voice was cold, dark and twisted. It sounded to Jason's ears like a mix of both the Joker's and Bruce's. _

"_No… please…" Jason curled in on himself as the Bat faded into shadow. In a much younger voice he whispered the word he had cried out too many times in his nightmares. "Dad! Don't… don't leave me…"_

_This was the substance of his nightmares, every last one of them... _

_Except this one felt too real to be a dream._

_Bruce turned to leave, turning his back on Jason – a Jason that was quickly disintegrating. His body did not stop; it just kept decaying until he found himself trapped once more in his coffin. The darkness wrapped him in a deep and familiar embrace, one that closed in on him from all sides. _

_Jason screamed again, crying out at the vision, at the fear, and at the terrible despair rising in him. His body was whole, but his mind was so far fractured that he couldn't swim against it any longer._

_Too_ weak.

_Too_ afraid.

_Too_ dead.

That was when the light came back.

…

Jason's eyes peaked open with all the terror and exhaustion left there in the depths. The man that stood above him was elderly with a full gray mustache slather on his upper lip. Alfred's hand was firmly placed on the young man's shoulder, shaking gently. The old butler stared at Jason with sincere concern and Jason couldn't help but close his eyes and lean into the touch – not that he would ever admit that.

"Hey, Alfie." It was all Jason could muster, though the voice was still small and shaky.

"Rest now, Master Jason. You are home, safe and sound." The Butler's voice was just as soothing and authoritative as it had ever been. He sighed in resignation and Jason couldn't help but nod his head and relax himself.

His head melted into the pillows. Closing his eyes, he only just caught the expression of worry that crossed the old man's face before collapsing into unconsciousness once more.

With the boy safely and soundly asleep, Alfred backed away from the bed, Jason's bed – the one that he had hoped and prayed to see filled by this young man for quite some time. The problem was that Jason was injured now and he hadn't returned of his own free will. Not yet.

But now…

What had that been? When he had entered the room with a tray of tea, Jason had been writhing on the bed fearfully crying out for his father… Alfred only wondered which father Jason was looking for after all these years.

Alfred shook his head in both sadness and apprehension. Above all things, it was his duty to hold together his family – a family that had expanded to include all his grandsons and granddaughters.

So he left the room with only one look backwards at the now-sleeping form of Jason, the boy who looked much younger in his sleep.

"Is he all right?"

"How is he feeling?"

"Will he be staying?"

Alfred raised a hand to silence them before guiding them further down the hall. "He will be fine. Just let him rest up a while."

Dick looked away, somewhat wary. "You should have seen him when we found them, Alfred. They were both in bad shape, but Jason looked like he'd lost everything…"

"Oh please, Grayson. Stop acting so dramatic. Todd will be fine." Damian clicked his tongue, appearing perfectly nonchalant for his young age.

"I hope you're right, Demon."

"Of course I'm right, Drake."

Of course then their light-hearted speech degenerated into bickering, which degenerated into fighting, which further degenerated into an all-out war. It was to this sight that Alfred closed the door to Bruce's room.

On the bed, his son turned to look at him. Bruce's eyes were weary, the crisp blue lost to sleep and showing off more of a grey color. When the man had first been brought home, he had insisted on being placed across the hall from Jason, to let the boy know that his father was near. In all honesty, Bruce was not ill. He was recovering from hypothermic conditions, yes, but the true problem was his inability to fight at his full abilities. Since he came back, the cowl had been out of reach – his reflexes were too slow, his body stiff rather than fluid. So here he was, trying to sleep off parental confusion.

"Sir, how are you feeling today?"

"I'm fine, Alfred. I just don't understand what's wrong with me."

Alfred smiled. "For a grown man you're still just as naïve as a child when it comes to emotional intelligence."

Bruce raised a single eyebrow, staring at his father-figure in open curiosity. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't, but you will." The old butler shook his head tiredly. Moving on, he began a new topic, hoping to spark some understanding in his boy. "Master Jason was awake. He was calling for you, as were the others."

Bruce turned away, burying his head in the pillows. "I want to give him space to think, Alfred. Just knowing he's here… that he's home and safe… that's enough for me. If I try to get too close, I'll spook him… and he might not come back this time."

Alfred approached the bed with a little more anger than necessary. "For God's sake, Master Bruce. There comes a time when you need to stop worrying about what _could_ happen and start acting like a _parent_. That's what Jason needs right now. And if he leaves after that… at least he'll know he has a home to come back to. He'll know he can come here and be safe."

"I know Jason, if I try something… He'll feel cornered."

"Not if you don't act overbearing. Relax. Talk to your son as an equal. It's the only way you'll ever get him back."

The butler looked older than his years and wiser than he had ever been in that moment, but still Bruce felt himself being cut away – all his logic thrown out the window. That's why he retreated. "I need to sleep now, Alfred. Please leave."

"You'll have to tell your boys what happened soon, Bruce. You can't keep avoiding them forever…"

"I said that's enough, Alfred."

"He has nightmares, you know," Alfred said, stopping Bruce mid-movement. There was no need to question which son he was referring to. "He cries for his father, he cries out in fear of abandonment. He needs you, he needs his family."

"please go, old friend."

"I will return when the young master awakes next. Please be prepared."

…

Since Jason had made my glorified return, there were still several things he refused to do. Interacting with the other members of the bat 'family' was one of those. Since waking, he'd avoided each and every attempt at bonding, and honestly he was exceedingly proud of that. There had been several attempts, especially those fucking 'surprise' trust hugs. They were like trust falls… with hugging… Definitely a _Dick _thing to do.

The second, very important thing he refused to do was to fall into old patterns. With the utmost virulence, Jason was careful not to pace the way he used to. He was careful not to go up on the ceiling like he used to, and he was definitely careful not to talk to Alfred the way the two of them once did. The very first day, when he tried… Things just became too complicated, and if there was one thing Jason hated it was another fucking complication (like his life wasn't a fucking mess as it was). Emotions were too difficult to deal with, to muddled and chaotic.

The third and final thing Jason would not do was falling asleep completely or in any way remember (reliving) his past. He had learned from that first night back how terrifying his dreams could be, how encroaching they were. Since the first time Jason had been cornered in an alley, just after losing his mom, the young man had decided never to put himself in a position of vulnerability again. Especially if he had a say in the matter. It was part of why he had always been such an aggressive fighter, developing an often too-violent style that Bruce certainly disapproved of – because if he was hurt, he was making damn sure to make the other person hurt as well. If they were hurting, they wouldn't be able to overtake you… Survival of the fittest. Darwin always wins. And having dreams – no, having _nightmares_ and crying like a child… if that didn't scream "vulnerable," then Jason honestly didn't know what did.

But now it had been three days since he got a full night's rest. In some countries that much time without sleep could be enough to get you declared legally insane, but, hell, Jason figured there wasn't much to lose in that category. Even as his hands jittered with a caffeine-induced high, even as his fists hit the punching bag in the Batcave, even as his mind wandered back to the Joker… He couldn't stop. Couldn't rest. Though he would never admit it, the idea of seeing the Joker again, in an uncontrolled environment… It physically nauseated him. So… Staying awake. Normally he would be taking amphetamines to keep his body and mind going – he hated correcting his sights to compensate for trembling hands – but under the watchful gaze of Alfred, that was impossible.

Jason let out a long breath, letting the air glide alongside his fists, just as Bruce had taught him…

Another blow, another ache reverberating through his arm.

One more.

And another.

Then once more, his arm flying through the spot where the bag had been. Sand was spilled across the floor, the remains of the training material spread thin across the matt. When had that happened? The last blow? Or the one before it?

God damn… his mind was just so…

"Muddled?"

And there was the chipper sound of the Replacement…

How long had he been at it? Four hours? Maybe five. Enough time had elapsed that a layer of sweat had gathered atop his skin. He began to unravel the gauze around his hands only to find that the skin over his knuckles was split open and bleeding profusely. "Ah fuck," he said under his breath.

"That's what going several days without sleep will do to a guy."

"Shut up."

Tim shrugged, tossing fresh bandages at him easily.

"How'd you know I was down here, Replacement?" Jason wrapped the bandaged over his hands with a practiced eye – he'd done this shit much too often.

"You know the whole 'replacement' thing is a little overrated. I've been replaced too."

"Right. So, that'd make you my Replacement's Replacement. Or would it be the other way around… Yeah, the Demon would be the replacement's replacement." As he spoke, Jason pointed with his index finger this way and that to indicate his thought process.

Tim shook his head, "Actually, that makes the Demon the replacement's replacement's replacement, since technically you took the place of one Dick Grayson."

Jason smiled unwillingly, what could he say? He liked the brat. "True enough. That still doesn't answer my question. Why you here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

Jason clicked his tongue, twitching his head to the left as he did so. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not the best person to socialize with, or even to associate with for that matter."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then you know that Dick, no matter how much of a _dick_ he can be, is much better at it."

"I'm well aware." Jason laughed, really laughed. God, this kid was gutsy, rude, and witty. Jason Liked it.

"Then talk, Repl… Tim."

The kid opened his mouth to speak, but closed it to inspect Jason for a moment. "Why won't you sleep?"

"Don't want to."

Tim's eyes narrowed, though the look was not mean in any way. It was curious. "Is it because of us? All of us being around?"

Jason sobered quickly. "No."

"Then what is it? All of us have been here, worried about you and Bruce –"

"Newsflash, kid, no one ever asked you to worry or whatever!"

"I know."

"Then why the hell do you care?"

Tim looked away, seemingly unable to match the fire in Jason's eyes any longer. "I don't think you understand how badly we all want this to work… This family… the only family I have left… it hasn't been whole for too long…"

And for once Jason didn't feel like arguing. He sat down as the kid did. "too much has happened."

"You're a shitty liar, Jason."

"Shit, I didn't know you knew such words, Timmy."

"I mean it. You want this to work as badly as the rest of us, maybe more… Can't you at least _try_?"

When Jason didn't reply, the boy stood up. There was a deep flame in his eyes, one that Jason suspected was set with determination. Tim took a deep breath and began to walk away; he stopped at the stairs to toss a few words over his shoulder. "Tell me, Jason, What scares you more? That you've been successfully avoiding all of us, or that Bruce has been successfully avoiding you?"

He didn't reply. Jason listened as the kid made his way back up to the mansion before he lost it. He paced across the room and threw some punches at the floor because _Goddamnit_ he had just broken two rules in one fucking night. Fan-fucking-tastic.

**Please leave a review below! Encourage me to write? Maybe? Please?**


End file.
